


But I Say, It Is What You Love

by bllatrix



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Discussion of Abortion, Drama & Romance, Explicit Language, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Food, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Non-Explicit Sex, Pregnancy, Slow Burn, Swearing, Vomiting, Wordcount: 50.000-100.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:21:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 74,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22681648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bllatrix/pseuds/bllatrix
Summary: Lucifer has fallen. Lilith is now Queen of Hell and Zelda has become High Priestess of the Church of Lilith. One may think it should be smooth sailing from there, but the two women soon realize that things are due to change drastically over time and they must learn to adapt, perhaps finding comfort and hope in each other. Perhaps, their newfound closeness will blossom into somethingmore.This work is a COMPLETED canon divergence AU set after the ending of Part 2. Enjoy!
Relationships: Zelda Spellman/Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith
Comments: 250
Kudos: 431





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, here’s the deal: I started writing this fic in December, so I’m going to pretend Part 3 never happened. This is all going to take place after the ending of Part 2. English isn’t my first language, this is my first work in English and I have no idea where I’m going with it. Like, I have a very vague concept in mind, but that’s it. I added some basic tags at the beginning, but I might have to add more in the future. I also have a tendency to ignore canon when I simply do not vibe with it and, much like Zelda herself, I detest teen angst. 
> 
> If you’re still reading after everything I’ve just typed, I’m assuming you’re either a masochist or a lesbian who is desperate for Sapphic content (to which I say: God, me too). Enjoy!

Lilith shivered, her eye carelessly falling on the enormous pile of books standing in front of her. She looked around the room, distracted: her office, with drawn curtains and barren walls, was cold and unwelcoming, like an old, forgotten storage room that hadn’t seen a good dusting in a long time. The dust, in fact, had settled on every surface of the room, with the exception of the dark mahogany desk on which the huge mountain of books stood. Her secretary had given them to her to look through, in order to make sure that their content was suitable for the classes that were to be held at the Academy the following semester. The secretary had also told her that Father Blackwood used to compile long lists of acceptable and forbidden books, which Lilith found utterly ridiculous: banning things had never stopped people from obtaining them. That was precisely why she was planning on simply opening a few volumes, giving the impression that she’d carefully read through them, and eventually approve them all.

She shivered again: cold was a new sensation, one she’d only experienced in her human form, but she did not mind it. She could have lit the marble fireplace in the corner of the room, but the fire had gone out hours before and she was about to leave anyway, which meant that there was no point in doing so. Plus, she felt like she somewhat deserved it: not the cold per se, but the feeling of vague uneasiness, like she was an unwanted guest staying overnight in someone’s untidy, chilly home. She could have remained in Hell, reigning over demons, witches and other infernal creatures, but she had decided to come back.

Why had she come back, exactly? Why had she chosen to stay in a world that had been so unkind to her? She could have told people that she’d felt an obligation of sorts towards the students of the Academy of Unseen Arts; or that, maybe, she’d thought she could have better prevented danger if she’d began to frequent both worlds, as Father Blackwood was still on the run, after all. But, in truth, she didn’t know. She’d grown fond of Sabrina Spellman and knew she needed protecting, but she had to admit that her aunts – Hilda, warm and loving; Zelda, cold and severe – were perfectly able to care for their niece without her help.

Yes, Zelda: since she’d made the decision to spend more time at the Academy, becoming a principal-like figure, she’d been spending a considerable amount of time with her High Priestess. At first, she’d found the redheaded woman to be utterly insufferable: after the initial shock derived from learning that sweet Ms. Wardwell was, in fact, the demoness Lilith, Zelda had not exactly shown her the same reverence that she had reserved for her previous Dark Lord. Mind you, she still treated her as the rightful ruler of Hell, but not even the most powerful evil spirit of all time was immune to Zelda Spellman’s proverbial iciness and occasional sarcastic criticism. Lilith had even considered stepping down from her position to give Zelda full power over the Academy, but she had soon realized that the witch’s spiteful comments were a small price to pay in exchange for her newfound connection to the magical world.

But there was something else, Lilith knew, something she could not articulate clearly. She’d spent time with Hilda Spellman during the previous year: parent-teacher conferences back when she was still pretending to be a lonely spinster, mostly, but she’d seen her around town, talked to her during fairs and festivals and even visited the Spellman family home a few times. Zelda, however, was never there: in Lilith’s mind, she was always a distant figure, an apparition she couldn’t truly figure out – at least not until the day they’d started working together. Truthfully, she knew that she still hadn’t cracked Zelda Spellman’s code: not that she cared, of course, because the very idea of caring about someone like Zelda repulsed her – it was certainly something else. Annoyance, probably. Irritation, because she didn’t know what the woman was really thinking half the time; she didn’t know what to say, how to act around her – which was silly, obviously, because she was the Queen of Hell and the Queen of Hell bowed to no one, but she felt like, sometimes, in front of Zelda Spellman, she needed to do just that. Like she needed to kneel.

In the end, she’d decided that she wasn’t too concerned about her feelings towards Zelda Spellman, or about the witch’s feelings towards her, and, only to avoid having to rethink about the matter in the future, she’d chosen to settle on mild annoyance, accompanied by slight impatience – even if she did not know what caused it. Her gaze indifferently paused on the tall grandfather clock next to the fireplace: she’d been lost in her thoughts for almost an hour and it was half past eight already. She looked at the books on her desk one last time and decided she was going to tell her secretary to add them all to the following semester’s reading list. As she was grabbing her purse, ready to go back to her house in the mortal world, someone knocked on her office door.

“Yes?”, she asked, hoping it wasn’t an overworking student or a concerned parent.

“It’s me.” A hoarse voice came from the other side of the door.

“Come in.” Lilith replied, recognizing Zelda’s tone. She wasn’t expecting a visit from her that late. She watched the door open as the redheaded witch walked into her office: even her way of entering rooms was almost arrogant, as if she was the true ruler of the place and Lilith was nothing but a ridiculous puppet, a step away from being overthrown. She was wearing one of her usual black dresses with long sleeves and a golden medallion around her neck. The dress fit her well, though it was tight around her abdomen and bosom. Of course, Lilith wasn’t purposely looking at those specific parts of the other witch’s body, but Zelda looked striking as she crossed the room to reach her desk and, well, Lilith wasn’t blind.

“Have you read them?”, the witch asked, the sound of her heels stomping on the floor masqueraded by the worn carpeting.

“Pardon me?”, Lilith was taken off guard by that conversation starter.

She could see that Zelda was trying unbelievably hard not to roll her eyes at her and appreciated the effort, even if it resulted in a strange, constipated expression. “The books. On your desk. Have you read them?”

“Oh.” Lilith exclaimed, surprised. “Of course. I just need to… I need to make a list. Just the usual list and then I’m done.”

“I don’t believe you, Lilith.” Zelda said, scanning Lilith with inquisitive eyes. Lilith herself had given other witches and warlocks permission to call her by her first name: ‘Dark Lady’ had an odd ring to it and ‘Your Highness’ sounded too pompous, almost bizarre. ‘Lilith’, however, was just right. “I know you loathe this sort of tasks. Tell me two titles you’ve decided to ban.”

“Sure.” Lilith tried to buy some time. “Let’s see… The Great Book of Catholic Heresies and… I’m guessing the Holy Bible?”, she tried to joke, but her pathetic attempt at comedy was met with complete indifference, if not exasperation, on Zelda’s part.

“Unbelievable.” Zelda said. “I will help you, but only so that we can both go home at a reasonable hour. Do sit down.”

Lilith sat down quickly and immediately felt stupid for doing so: the witch had no right to give her orders of any kind. Satan in Hell, if anything, it was she who was in charge! Zelda, however, didn’t seem to care. She sat down in the chair in front of hers and started picking up books, methodically browsing through them. Lilith briefly looked at her, hoping not to be caught: not that she had anything to hide, clearly, but humans and witches considered staring impolite and she did care about manners. Zelda was looking rather pale that day: dark circles under her eyes, which she had evidently tried to mask with subtle make-up, suggested that she was somewhat sleep-deprived. Lilith suddenly felt bad about forcing her to stay there with her, but, to be fair, she hadn’t asked her to do so: Little Miss Goody-Two-Shoes wanted things to be done her way – as she always did – and she was taking Lilith down with her, in a rabbit hole of obscure and fairly boring magic manuals.

“Did you need anything?”, Zelda interrupted her flow of thoughts and Lilith realized that she had, in fact, been caught staring. Her cheeks flushed as she tried to nonchalantly shake her head and then proceeded to bury her face in the first dull book she could find.

Time went by slowly and Lilith started to wonder if they were truly going to spend an entire night cataloging books without uttering a word to each other, until a low growl, which Lilith soon realized had come from the other witch’s stomach, interrupted the silence. They both ignored it, until it happened again, a few seconds later. “I haven’t eaten yet.” Zelda tried to justify herself, her face slowly gaining color, possibly because of the embarrassment.

“Would you like to?”, Lilith asked, suddenly aware of the fact that Zelda, too, like all humans and witches, needed to eat. “I could ask the school cook to prepare us something to eat.”

“That doesn’t sound appropriate.” Zelda said, stern as ever.

“Suit yourself.” Lilith replied, hiding her disappointment. She didn’t want to eat with Zelda Spellman – Hell, she was a demon, she didn’t even _need_ to eat! She’d only asked her to be polite and she’d been rejected, harshly, which was why she was upset. Well, not fully upset. Only slightly.

But Zelda was not a powerful demoness like Lilith and, after a while, it became apparent that she was hungry: her stomach was loudly protesting against the lack of nutrients and she could do nothing to stop it. “I have changed my mind.” She finally said, swallowing her pride. “I could do with something to eat.”

“Very well.” Lilith answered, trying to mask a grin. It was the first time Zelda had ever agreed on something Lilith had proposed and she was pleased with the whole situation. “What would you like to eat?”

“A cheeseburger is fine. Maybe two.” Zelda replied, without taking her eyes off the huge manual she was reading. When Lilith failed to answer, she lifted her gaze and met the other woman’s light eyes, filled with amusement. “What?”, she almost yelled, clearly beginning to get irritated. “The portions here are exceptionally small!”

“Sorry, I simply didn’t peg you as the cheeseburger-eating type.” Lilith said, wondering if the witch was particularly snarky because of the hunger, or if, maybe, she always acted that way. The second option seemed more plausible. “I’ll ask the cook to bring them here. Anything to drink?”

“Yes, well, the taste of caviar and lobsters gets tedious after a while. Red wine would work.” The other woman joked, regaining her composure and resuming her book.

“I guess we haven’t spent enough time together for me to know that detail about you.” Lilith added, impulsively, as she was asking her secretary to bring them dinner, and she immediately regretted it: why was she implying that she wanted to spend more time with Zelda? Was an entire evening spent browsing through ancient textbooks not enough?

“I guess so.” Zelda seemed uncomfortable, but Lilith couldn’t tell why. It was true, however, that Lilith felt uneasy around the other witch as well, so the feeling was mutual, at least.

“Mrs. Blackwood, if I could—”

“Ms. Spellman.” Zelda promptly interrupted the other woman. “It’s Ms. Spellman again, now. Giving up the Spellman family name always felt like a betrayal. Please, do call me Ms. Spellman.”

Lilith was taken aback by the interruption and by the unusually private confession. “Sure. Then, Ms. Spellman, may I ask you why you chose to spend the evening here, cataloging books in this cold room, instead of going home to your family?”, she inquired. The question had sounded like a provocation, and maybe it had been one: Lilith wasn’t too happy about spending the night there, either.

“It is rather cold.” Zelda avoided the question. Lilith jumped up and felt somewhat silly for the second time that evening: there was no need to rush to the fireplace like that, after they’d spent a full hour in that same chilly room. She only wanted to be a good host, that was it. They were in her office, after all.

“You took down all the paintings.” Zelda noticed, looking around.

“Is that a bad thing?”, Lilith asked, for she had, in fact, removed all the decorations that Father Blackwood had previously placed in the office. She could not bear to look at them without a feeling of disgust overcoming her.

“Quite the contrary.” Zelda mumbled. “I don’t think I could sit comfortably in this room if it still looked like it did before.”

“That’s understandable.” Lilith replied, as a butler carrying a trail with two cheeseburgers, a bottle of red wine and two glasses entered the room. The women thanked him and began to eat – well, Zelda did, while Lilith slowly sipped her wine, contemplating the humorous image of the severe, decorous witch in front of her eating dreadful junk food.

“They don’t want me.” Zelda said, out of the blue.

“Who?”, the other woman asked.

“My family. Hilda, Sabrina. Even Ambrose. They say I’m too much. They say I suffocate them.” Zelda had stopped eating and was staring at the wall in front of her, blankly.

Lilith didn’t know what to say to her. She hadn’t expected a reply to her previous question at all, let alone a serious one. Maybe she would have preferred one of the witch’s usual snarky comments, but it was too late to draw back. “That’s the problem with mortals, I think.” She looked in her mind and heart for something encouraging to say to the other woman, but she couldn’t find it. “You care too much.” She managed to say, hoping it had sounded uplifting enough, even if she strongly doubted it.

“I’m only doing what’s best for the family.” Zelda was solemn once again, her back straight as a ruler against her chair. Whatever form of intimacy Lilith thought they had somehow reached before, it was gone. Lilith knew she didn’t have to console the other woman – she barely even knew her. Yet, she felt the red wine she’d consumed burn the lining of her stomach, not because it wasn’t good – in fact, she’d asked for one of the finest wines from the Academy’s cellar – but because she was feeling an emotion she had never experienced before, which humans and witches, oversimplifying the pain Lilith was sensing in that very moment, tended to call ‘sadness’.

“I’m going to sit on the couch. This chair is terribly uncomfortable.” Zelda once again interrupted Lilith’s stream of consciousness as she moved from the desk to the old sofa near the fireplace, plate still in her hand, a partly-chewed cheeseburger left on it.

Lilith decided to join her, putting the two glasses and the bottle on the coffee table in front of them. She wasn’t sitting close to Zelda – they were actually far apart, despite the couch itself being the opposite of vast – but she had to admit that simply being there, in a tepid room, with a redheaded woman she neither hated nor loved – it was something in between, that little she did know – almost felt good. She was never going to tell her so, of course, but it had been a long time since she’d simply eaten dinner with another person, making some – admittedly awkward – small talk, and she nearly liked it.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”, Lilith asked. She wondered if the other woman was having those same thoughts. If maybe, deep inside, she, too, felt lonely, and if the company of another person did not inconvenience her as much as she usually let others believe.

“Well, dinner, first of all. And the chalices. I forgot to bring them over here. Thank you for doing that.” Yes, Lilith thought, that seemed far more believable than her other hypothesis.

“Here, let me fill—”, she began to say as she tried to refill Zelda’s glass, but she accidentally knocked over her own, which fell on the carpeted floor. It did not break into pieces, but it did leave a pungent-smelling wine stain that would not go away, not even in the following weeks, not even in the following years, partly because removing the carpet would have been too much trouble, partly because Lilith – though she wasn’t going to admit it – eventually grew rather fond of it.

As she turned towards Zelda to apologize, Lilith saw the witch crack an imperceptible smile: it was no malicious smirk like the ones she’d seen before, but a genuine, pleased grin. In that moment, childishly, Lilith asked herself how it would have felt to see Zelda smile more. No, actually, the thought that crossed her mind, rapidly, like a silvery fish leaping out of a river to escape from a bear hunting nearby, was even worse: she asked herself how _she_ would have felt if she’d had the chance to see Zelda smile like that, maybe once a week, maybe every other day, maybe every day. And then something changed, deep inside her: she did not know what had happened, or how, for it was a feeling she’d never wholly experienced before, but sitting on that couch next to Zelda Spellman was suddenly not too unpleasant. She kept looking at the other woman, most likely staring for too long, but she wasn’t really worried about politeness anymore.

“What a mess.” Zelda said, but, from the tone of her voice, one could have told she was quite amused. “Let me—”

“No, please.” Lilith said, instinctively. “I’ll clean it up tomorrow.”

Zelda sat back on the couch, finishing the rest of her second cheeseburger. Lilith found herself desperately looking for something to say, anything to keep the conversation going. Again, she told herself that she didn’t truly care, but she didn’t want to sit in awkward silence, either.

“Will you be coming to the Solstice Ball?”, Lilith finally asked. What a stupid question! The Ball was organized for the young students and the school board had already decided which teachers were going to be there to make sure no one got into a fight, spiked the punch or conceived a magic baby.

“Why, are you asking me to prom?”, Zelda replied, teasingly. When she saw Lilith turn beet red, for reasons at the time unknown both to her and to Lilith herself, she decided to answer honestly. “I don’t know. I would like to, but I don’t want Sabrina to think I’m spying on her, or feed whatever persecution complex that girl might be suffering from.” She concluded, finishing her second glass of wine. Lilith promptly refilled it.

“I think you should still come. I believe it will be a nice event, not just for the pupils.” Lilith said. “If you want, of course.” She added, not wanting it to sound like some sort of order.

“I will think about it. Now, let’s finish up with these books, so we can both go home.” The witch said, back to her usual rigorous self.

As Zelda stood up from the couch, Lilith noticed that something had changed in her: her pale forehead was suddenly covered with sweat and she was staring into space with a worried grimace, not really focusing on anything in particular. “Are you feeling alright?”, she asked, approaching her slowly.

“Yes, I’m perfectly fine.” The other witch replied, clearing her throat. “I think I just need a cigarette. May I smoke in here?”

“Absolutely.” Lilith said, without worrying about the smell of smoke that was going to linger in her office for a day or two. In that moment, she did not care. She watched Zelda pull a pack of cigarettes out of her fur coat and, with unsteady hands, put one of them in her cigarette holder. She then started to look for a lighter, but Lilith was quicker: she grabbed the rose-scented candle on her desk – the only true decorative element that adorned the room – and moved it close to Zelda’s unlit cigarette, near her plump mouth, unusually colorless.

“Here.” She whispered, lighting the other witch’s cigarette with the rosy candle. She was so close to her that she could smell the delicate aroma of jasmine in her hair. She looked at her as she inhaled the first puff of smoke, but something went wrong: Zelda’s features instantly seemed different, as if she was about to faint. Lilith opened her mouth to ask her what was wrong, but Zelda stepped away before she’d managed to utter a single word. The witch looked around the room with a pained expression and eventually ran to the fireplace: with a trembling hand on the white mantelpiece and the other one holding her abdomen, she promptly emptied the contents of her aching stomach, as Lilith rushed by her side.

“It’s fine.” Lilith said, trying to hold back the woman’s voluminous red hair, gently patting her back. “Do not worry, it’s fine.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank you guys so much for your feedback on the first chapter! I truly didn’t think people would be interested in this, but your comments gave me some good ol’ extra motivation to keep writing. I will try to update once a week or every ten days, depending on uni and real life responsibilities. Hope you’ll like this new chapter!

“Do not worry.” Lilith kept repeating. Really? ‘Do not worry’? Zelda Spellman had been sick all over her office and she was simply telling her not to worry? In her past life, she’d murdered people for less than that. However, being a demon and all, Lilith had never had the experience of helping someone – a friend, a lover, an unknown drunk girl in a sketchy club – throw up, and, because of that, when she found herself in that situation for the first time, she realized it was quite intimate. Not pleasant, or even memorable, but intimate. So, there she was, softly patting the other woman’s back, waiting for the whole turmoil to be over. Zelda gagged a few more times, but nothing else came out.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered as she tried to get up. Her legs were still unsteady and she had to reach for Lilith’s arm for support. The sudden touch inexplicably sent a shiver down the demoness’ spine, but she was too concerned about Zelda’s well-being to pay attention to it. The woman then cleaned her mouth with the back of her hand – a gesture Lilith would have never expected from her – and talked again. “I don’t know… I’m sorry. I will clean that up.”

“Please, don’t worry about it. Sit down.” Lilith said, as she led her to the couch. She looked vulnerable, as if all her strengths had been suddenly drained. Again, Lilith felt a great wave of sadness wash over her, though she couldn’t yet name the feeling. “Are you alright?”, she asked again.

“Yes, I’m sorry.” Zelda said, her eyes still watery. “It must have been the food from the Academy’s kitchen. I have to go.”

“Please, stay. I will make some tea.” Lilith begged, even if she’d never made tea for anyone before and wasn’t even sure she knew how it was prepared, but Zelda was already out of the door.

“It’s fine, I have to go now. I’m sorry.” She replied, only to vanish a second later, dramatically slamming the door behind her.

Lilith didn’t quite understand what had just happened. Maybe she should have run after Zelda to make sure that she was alright, but she had a feeling that the witch wanted to be left alone. She, too, needed some time to think about the events of the evening. But first, she had to clean up the mess Zelda had involuntarily created, in order to make the job of the Academy’s cleaners a little less distasteful in the morning. After putting out the fire – or what was left of it – she grabbed a piece of cloth, an old bar of soap she’d found in a filthy closet down the hall and started vigorously scrubbing.

* * *

When Lilith arrived at the Academy the following day, she was exhausted. She had gotten home late the previous night and hadn’t been able to fall asleep for hours. Eventually, her tiredness had gotten the better of her and she had managed to get a couple of hours of not-so-comfortable sleep. And when she’d woken up that same day, she’d thought of Zelda. It was odd, she had to admit that, for she’d never truly thought about anyone but herself before. Of course, in the past, she’d been devoted to the Dark Lord, but not in that way. When she thought about Zelda Spellman, she felt genuinely worried. As a result, when she entered the Academy and saw that the witch was not hanging out – or, better, fighting – with the other teachers in the faculty lounge, she grew even more concerned. She was considering the idea of phoning the Spellmans, somewhat afraid that a call would have been excessive, when she spotted Sabrina as she walked alongside Nick and Prudence in the corridor.

“Sabrina, good morning!”, she exclaimed with an unusually high-pitched voice. When she saw the three students’ stunned faces, she realized that she had, in fact, been too loud. She tried to compose herself, using her usual, lower tone. “Well, good morning, you three. Sabrina, may I talk to you for a second? In private, if that’s okay with you.”

“Sure!”, Sabrina replied. She said goodbye to her friends and let Lilith walk her to her first class of the day. “What did you need to tell me?”

“Well, it’s nothing serious, really. I wanted to ask you about your aunt, Zelda. I haven’t seen her today and I… well… I need her help. With a… thing.” She probably should have thought about what she was going to say before taking Sabrina aside, Lilith realized.

“Oh.” Sabrina was a bit surprised by the unusual question – likely because she thought her aunt hated Lilith, and vice versa – but evidently didn’t think much of it. “She wasn’t feeling well, so she stayed at home. I heard Auntie Hilda call in sick for her this morning. Did nobody warn you?”

“No, they didn’t.” Lilith hadn’t even thought about asking her secretary if anyone had called that morning. “Nothing serious, I hope?”

“I don’t think so. Probably just a bug.” Sabrina said, not very interested in the topic of her aunt’s health. “Honestly, it feels good to have some freedom from her. She’s turning into an overwhelming mother hen, I swear. Well, aunt hen.” She laughed softly, then waved Lilith goodbye and walked into the classroom on their left.

Lilith stood there for a few seconds, thinking that Sabrina shouldn’t have spoken ill of her aunt so freely. But, in the end, Zelda Spellman’s life was none of her business, and she had a lot of work to do that morning, anyway. First of all, she had to make sure that the fireplace had been cleaned up nicely – she’d tried her best the previous night, but her homemaker skills were limited and she wasn’t even sure she’d used the right product – and she also had to finish writing that awful list of forbidden books. She toyed with the idea of ignoring the last task completely, but then felt like she somehow owed it to Zelda. And besides, it wasn’t like she could have gotten away with it. Maybe Sabrina was right: Zelda had always had a peculiar mother hen aura, even with Lilith herself.

The day passed slowly, and so did the three days after that, but at least the weather was warmer than it had been the previous week and Lilith felt no need to light the fireplace. Not much happened during school hours: a student turned another warlock into a toad and she had to undo the curse and another witch accidentally set a curtain on fire because of a spell gone wrong, but she managed to get both situations under control quickly. In the meantime, she couldn’t stop thinking about Zelda: at the beginning, she was just a feeble thought in the back of her mind and she only wondered how she was doing, as she hadn’t been at the Academy since the incident. However, she knew she couldn’t ignore the events of that one night forever: the sudden wave of warmth she’d felt when they were both sitting on the couch, the chilling sensation she’d experienced when Zelda had tightly clutched her arm. She didn’t want to give those feelings a name; perhaps she was afraid of them. And yet, her first thought in the morning was always of Zelda; and when she went to sleep, once again, she wondered how Zelda was doing, if the sickness had passed, if she was going to see her soon. On the night of the fourth day, she finally made a decision: she was going to visit the Spellmans the following evening to make sure that Zelda was okay.

On the dawn of the fifth day, though, she felt less certain about her choice. Maybe Zelda was still sick and didn’t want to receive visitors; maybe she was embarrassed and Lilith was the last person she wanted to see; or, maybe – and that was the worst case scenario – she hadn’t been thinking about Lilith at all, and simply needed a break from her position as both High Priestess and chorus director. The only way for Lilith to know for sure was to pay a surprise visit to the Spellmans. After all, it wasn’t like she had never been to their place before: she had once wandered around the house without an invitation before Zelda had noticed her and, that evening, she was at least planning on ringing the doorbell.

After school, she stopped at the local market to buy some tea: she had no idea what all those different flavors of tea tasted like – again, demons didn’t really have to eat or drink – but she didn’t want to show up at the Spellman residence empty-handed, so she picked a set of colorful teabags and hoped for the best. She also prayed that Zelda would see that as a thoughtful gesture and not as a provocation – since Zelda, as far as she knew, took pretty much everything as a provocation. She could have teleported herself to the house, but decided to take the car and drive instead, hoping for the ride to clear up some of her confusing thoughts. It didn’t, of course, because that sort of things only happened in cheesy movies she used to watch on her television when she was too tired to look for the remote and switch channels, but she was glad she’d given it a try. Before even realizing it, she had driven all the way to the Spellman family home and was waiting awkwardly outside the door after shyly pressing the doorbell button. She waited for a couple of minutes, but nothing happened. She ringed again, cursing herself for not phoning first to make sure they were at home. Again, nothing. She was about to turn around and walk away when someone finally opened the door.

“Yes?”, a familiar rough voice asked, sounding irritated. Lilith wasn’t sure if Zelda looked ill or if she just wasn’t used to seeing her without make-up: with a bare face, considerably messy hair and a wrinkled robe, Lilith thought, she still looked quite beautiful. “Oh.”

“Hi. I mean, good evening.” Lilith wasn’t sure why she’d started the conversation with such a casual tone, but there was no way to undo that. “I’m sorry to bother you, I was just in the neighborhood and I wanted to check in on you.”

“In the neighborhood?”, Zelda clearly hadn’t fallen for Lilith’s lie. “Don’t you live on the other side of town?”

“I’m… Yes, well, technically…”, Lilith tried to come up with a better excuse, but her mind was blank.

Zelda saw that she was struggling and, perhaps, realized that she’d been too harsh with her: after all, it seemed like the other woman was simply worried about her. “Do come in.” She said, and Lilith secretly thanked her for inviting her in, because she didn’t want to confess to Zelda Spellman that she’d been wanting to see her for over a week and had only then worked up the courage to actually do so.

“How are you feeling? I haven’t seen you at the Academy in a while.” Lilith asked.

“Yes, I haven’t been well. I must have caught the flu.” Zelda replied, rather uncomfortably. Lilith could see that her face was a little thinner than the week before and she asked herself if she’d been too sick to eat well. Instantly, she remembered the several flavors of tea she’d bought for her and pulled them out of her purse.

“For you.” She said, handing them to Zelda in an almost childish manner. As the other witch thanked her, she realized that she could have at least put them in a nice bag, instead of giving them to her like some sort of uncivilized animal.

“I’m sorry about the other night.” Zelda finally said, after a few seconds of awkward silence, as if she’d just mustered up the courage to pronounce those words. “I was embarrassed, but I should have stayed there to help you clean up.” Lilith knew that Zelda wasn’t a woman who apologized easily, yet she seemed truly mortified and her heart ached for her just a little.

“We’ve all been sick at some point.” That was a lie, for Lilith had never been sick once in her very long life and she wasn’t sure it was even possible. But for Zelda, to make her feel better, she was willing to lie.

“I don’t think the mother of all demons gets sick very often.” Zelda replied, her words accompanied by what looked like a gloomy smile. “But thank you for saying that.”

Again, a familiar, tense silence fell between the two of them, but Lilith could have sworn that that one time something had changed: she wouldn’t have called it intimacy, but it wasn’t distance, either. Finally, Zelda spoke. “Shall we make some tea? The blueberry flavor seems tempting.”

“Sure, I would love some.” Lilith nodded: she didn’t really care for tea, but she didn’t mind spending some more time with the other witch. Merely to make sure she was doing alright, of course. No other reason.

“I’ve been feeling better.” Zelda said, showing Lilith the way to a large, chaotic kitchen – a room that was clearly Hilda Spellman’s reign, and possibly the sole part of the house where she had a say in anything. “I will go back to work next week, once the weekend is over.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Lilith didn’t want to give Zelda the impression that she’d visited her to ask her when she was going to be back at the Academy. “Take all the time you need.”

“It’s fine. I need to resume my duties as High Priestess as soon as possible, anyway.” The other woman replied, putting a kettle of already warm water on the fire.

“Yes, but if you need to rest—”

“I will come back next week.” Zelda interrupted her, harshly. As far as Zelda Spellman was concerned, the matter was closed and she would have been back the following Monday.

Lilith didn’t add anything to the conversation, out of fear of irritating the other witch. She watched as Zelda poured the contents of the boiling kettle into two lovely cups and put two blueberry-flavored teabags inside each of them. “Here.” She said, handing one to Lilith. “Careful, it’s hot.” She added. Lilith, who was the literal Queen of Hell, was used to handling hot things – hellfire, for example – and she was rather confused by Zelda’s warning, not because she’d found it silly, but because nobody had ever been concerned about her before; because no one had ever cared when she hurt herself, with unkind judgments, ruthless words or scorching-hot beverages.

“Thank you.” She replied, lost in her thoughts.

“Hello!”, a familiar voice came from the doorway, followed by the sound of shopping bags colliding against each other. “How’s my favorite sister doing today?”, Hilda asked as she made her entrance into the kitchen, carrying three gigantic bags full of groceries. Sabrina entered the room shortly after, cradling a small bowl filled with an eerie translucent liquid.

“Oh, good evening!”, she said, once she noticed that Lilith was also there. Aunt and niece both looked puzzled by the sight of Zelda having tea with the Queen of Hell, but their confused expressions soon turned into smiles. “What a surprise!”, Hilda exclaimed. “I would have tidied up the house, had I known our Queen would be stopping by!”

Lilith didn’t like it when people referred to her as ‘Queen’ – a title she’d longed for, but had begun to feel uncomfortable – and tried her best to disguise her displeasure. “No need for such formalities.” She said, friendly squeezing Hilda’s arm and smiling at Sabrina.

“I’m so glad you’re here!”, Sabrina almost shouted, tightening the grip on the bowl she was holding. “Roz and I have been working on this potion… I don’t know if we should call it a potion, actually, since it’s not meant to be drank. Anyway, it needs some finishing touches, but we think it could give the person who stares into it visions of the future! Would you like to try it?”, she asked, looking at both Lilith and Zelda.

“Visions of the future? Are we seriously entertaining such nonsense?”, Zelda said, coldly.

“I would like to try it, Sabrina.” Lilith replied, ignoring Zelda’s skeptical attitude, happy to have something to take her mind off things. “I believe I’m the only one here who would be pretty much immune to any potential side effects. Not that I don’t trust your potion-making skills, obviously.” She then winked, as Sabrina stifled a laugh, perfectly aware of the fact that most of her ideas, up until that point, had had fairly devastating consequences.

“I should probably be offended by that.” The young witch said, still smirking. “However, if you’d like to be my guinea pig, I’d be happy to let you. Here.” She said, handing Lilith the bowl.

“How should this work? Does one simply have to stare into it?”

“Not quite. Here, take some of this.” Sabrina said, pulling something out of her backpack. “It’s a mixture of thyme, rosemary and other medicinal plants from our garden. You’ll have to place it in the water and stir clockwise with a wooden spoon. I found the recipe inside a manual at the Academy, but I haven’t tried it out yet.”

“A manual?”, Zelda said, inquisitive. “I don’t think there should be tomes at the Academy that teach children how to predict the future. Lilith, did you ever finish that list of approved books?”

Lilith quickly nodded, avoiding Zelda’s gaze, for she had been so busy worrying about the other witch she had forgotten to compile that damned list, and once again talked to Sabrina. “Alright, let me try, then.” Taking the bowl from the younger witch’s hands, she put the ingredients inside of it and slowly stirred the bitter-smelling mixture with a spoon Hilda had given her, waiting for something to happen.

_At first, Lilith thought the potion hadn’t worked, as nothing had changed. She stared into the liquid full of pungent herbs for a good minute before giving up and looking up from the bowl. As she was about to tell Sabrina that, unfortunately, her little spell had proven useless, she soon noticed that the room around her was different: she was no longer in the Spellmans’ family kitchen, but in a dazzling, yellowish bedroom, with long silk curtains that let the bright light of day in. She began to look around the room in stupor, only stopping when she noticed a beautiful, glowing figure in a far corner, sitting in a rocking chair. She couldn’t tell who the striking woman was: she could barely see that her expression was serene and that her vivid, light eyes were looking in her direction. As she approached her, slowly, her mind finally started to make out her face: it was Zelda, indeed, peacefully rocking a babe in her arms. Was it a young Sabrina? Lilith truly didn’t know, as the child’s face was partly covered by a soft blanket._

_“Come here.” Zelda whispered. “I’ve been waiting.”_

_“Oh, I’m sorry.” Lilith said, unsure why she was apologizing to what was clearly just a vision._

_“It’s quite alright.” Zelda replied, her expression growing softer which each word. “I can wait. I will wait.”_

_“What?”, Lilith asked, even more confused than before. She tried to reach out, to touch Zelda’s skin, the babe’s blanket, to see what that perplexing dream was all about, but her sight turned black and, at once, her head started to spin, as if she’d just gotten out of a nauseating roller-coaster with no breaks._

“Are you alright?”, a known voice asked, bringing her back to reality. “What are you sorry for?”

Lilith looked up from the bowl and, all of a sudden, she was back in the Spellmans’ kitchen. Feeling unsteady, she grabbed the edge of the table behind her for support and accepted the glass of water Hilda promptly offered her, even though she knew she didn’t really need it. Her eyes then stopped on Zelda Spellman – who, much like her sister and niece, looked uncharacteristically worried – and she wondered what that bizarre vision had meant.

“Did you see anything?”, Sabrina asked, eagerly, more interested in the results of her latest experiment than worried about Lilith’s well-being.

“Oh.” Lilith exclaimed. She didn’t want to reveal the contents of her dream before she’d understood the meaning behind them, so she decided to tell a small, white lie. “Not really. My sight turned dark for no apparent reason and I didn’t see anything. It was all very confusing. I’m sorry, Sabrina, but it looks like you will have to work on your special brew for a little longer, if you want it to work.”

Sabrina was clearly disappointed by the news. “Well, maybe it didn’t work because you’re too powerful! Maybe a witch should try it. Aunt Zelda, would you like to?”, she said and, before her aunt had had the chance to refuse, she placed the aromatic bowl directly under Zelda’s nose.

The witch immediately reacted with an aching expression, one Lilith had seen mere days before. Sensing what was about to happen, she fetched an old bucket that was lying nearby and ran to Zelda, placing it in her hands. Not even a second after Lilith’s alert reaction, the woman proceeded to expel whatever was left in her stomach into the bucket, as Hilda mentally thanked Lilith for her readiness. As soon as the whole ordeal was over, Zelda glared at Sabrina, furious. “Have you gone mad, Sabrina? You know I haven’t been well! Why in the name of Satan would you force me to smell such a disgusting, muddy mixture?”, she yelled, bringing a hand to her mouth at the mention of the foul liquid.

“What? How is this my fault?”, Sabrina protested, but a look from Hilda convinced her that it was better not to object and simply accept Zelda’s reprimand.

“Go to your room, sweetheart.” Hilda said to her. “And as for you, I’m going to brew you a large cup of anti-emetic remedy and you’ll feel better in no time.” She added, giving her sister an affectionate pat on the back.

Lilith understood it was time for her to go and quickly said her goodbyes. “I should probably go.” She announced. “I hope you’ll get better. No need to come in on Monday if you’re still unwell.”

“Nonsense. I will be there. And thank you for the…”, Zelda pointed at the bucket, not finishing her sentence. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” Lilith replied, rapidly making her way back to the main entrance.

Once she got to her car, she felt too tired to drive back to the Academy and decided to teleport both herself and the vehicle to her cottage in the mortal world. After making sure that there were no humans around to witness her little magic trick, she did just that, and soon found herself sprawled on her old sofa, too exhausted to even think about all the absurdities that had happened that day. None of it made any sense: why had the odd magic potion Sabrina had created shown Zelda holding a child? Did it mean that Sabrina was in danger and needed protection? Should she have warned her aunts? Truth be told, Lilith wasn’t even sure Sabrina and her friend had brewed the mixture correctly. Perhaps it didn’t mean anything and there was absolutely no need to fret. Feeling worn out, she lazily grabbed the remote and turned the television on, not caring about what channel was on. Half-asleep, she began to watch a cheap drama about two irresponsible teenagers who had gotten pregnant before they’d even turned eighteen and had to deal with the consequences of their actions. As she watched the young girl rapidly hurry to the bathroom to deal with her morning sickness, a light went on in Lilith’s head and, promptly, it all clicked.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s a new part of this story! I’ve had some extra free time lately and managed to write a bit, although I’m usually just one chapter ahead of the one I’m sharing with you all. Hope you’ll enjoy this one and feel free to leave a comment with your impressions and critiques! As I said, this is my first fanfiction in English and I’m accepting all the help and advice I can get!

Lilith had spent yet another sleepless weekend thinking about the implications of what she’d realized the evening of her visit to the Spellman home: could Zelda truly have been with child? Was it even possible for her? How old was she, anyway? The demoness didn’t know much about magical reproduction, but she doubted a witch could have been fertile forever. Besides, did Zelda _want_ a child? She did seem rather motherly around Sabrina, but Lilith was having a hard time imagining her holding her own babe. After all those years spent raising her niece with her sister, the demoness simply didn’t understand why the witch would have wanted to start it all over again. Ashamed of her own thoughts – why in Heaven was she wondering about Zelda Spellman’s fecundity? – and visibly tired, she dragged herself through the grand doors of the Academy on Monday morning. Trying her best to ignore the sound of troublesome students loudly chatting in the hallways, she made her way to her office, hoping to find some peace and quiet in the comfort of her own isolated room on the top floor. She greeted her secretary, whose expression seemed weirdly concerned. Before Lilith had managed to ask her if anything wrong had happened before her arrival, a familiar, husky voice came from inside her office.

“I swear to Satan, I don’t come into work because I’m sick for a couple of days and the place crumbles to the ground!”

Lilith’s secretary gave her an apologetic glance, as if to remind her that she had no power over Zelda Spellman and that, even if she’d tried to stop her, the witch would have probably turned her into some kind of sticky, yellowish worm before she had even opened her mouth to talk. Of course, Lilith thought, Zelda had decided to completely ignore her precarious state of health and go back to the Academy anyway, despite the fact that she’d thrown up right in front of her no more than forty-eight hours before. The demoness sighed as she entered her office, slowly coming to terms with the fact that her morning was going to be anything but calm and serene.

Zelda was standing in front of Lilith’s mahogany desk, not paying much attention to her surroundings. She was wearing another one of her long-sleeved dresses, the blue one she always wore when she wanted a break from black pantsuits and brownish robes. She was complaining rather loudly, but to no one on particular. Lilith tried to announce her presence as she walked into the room. “Good morning, Ms. Spellman. Are you sure you feel—”

“I feel great, thank you very much.” Zelda interrupted her, not the least bit surprised: she’d been expecting her and, judging from the witch’s severe expression, Lilith was late. “In fact, I have never felt better. Hilda spent all weekend brewing herbal remedies and I’m so full of homemade anti-emetic potions that I believe I might be turning into one.”

“Still, if you need more time, I think that we can manage without you for another day or two.” Lilith had meant for her statement to sound comforting, but the other woman seemed offended by the notion that the Academy – or, perhaps, the entire world – could have ever gone on without her.

“I highly doubt it.” Zelda said, annoyed, while looking through a massive pile of papers that Lilith’s secretary had placed on her desk earlier that morning. “Your minion informed me of school property being set on fire and students turned into frogs, which doesn’t sound like ‘managing’ to me.”

Lilith wanted to tell her that calling her secretary a ‘minion’ wasn’t the kindest way to refer to the only person who actually did some work around there, but she realized that there was no point in doing so: no matter the argument, the other witch was always going to win. Instead, her mind wandered back to the implications of the thoughts that had haunted her over the previous days: she stared at the Spellman matriarch as she turned her back on her and wondered if she, too, had had the same concerning suppositions. Clearly, Zelda and Faustus Blackwood must have been together as husband and wife, but Lilith believed Zelda to be a careful, astute woman, and the very thought of her falling pregnant by accident seemed rather absurd. How could she have ever desired to bring that awful man’s spawn into the world? Perhaps the witch had actually considered him to be a good warlock, even if for a short amount of time, and they had decided to start a family together. Lilith’s stomach churned as the image of the two of them idyllically posing for a family picture formed into her mind, with a cheerful Sabrina holding her newborn cousin in her arms, the whole happy bunch smiling, content. The first woman couldn’t tell whether she was merely disgusted or if her revulsion hid a touch of jealousy. Before she could figure it out, however, Zelda’s voice once again brought her back to reality.

“Sister Mathilde will not be able to chaperone the Solstice Ball and I’m thinking of taking her place.” Zelda’s proposal had sounded more like an order. “She said she broke her leg falling down a flight of stairs late at night, but I bet the old vixen was drunk as a skunk when it happened.”

“Well, she’s not exactly know for her sobriety, is she?”, Lilith smiled, now sitting in her ancient chair. “I’m not sure if the students will be able to enjoy the Ball if you’ll be chaperoning, though. The poor souls won’t even be able to sneak some off-brand vodka in, I’m afraid.”

“Which is precisely why I’ll make a great guard dog.” Zelda grinned, not lifting her eyes from the stack of documents. She handed several of them over to Lilith, gesturing at her to sign them all.

“Who knew there’d be so much paperwork in the mortal world?”, the woman complained, scanning rapidly through the pages. Her mind could recognize the minuscule words written on the pieces of paper, but was unable to focus on them. She couldn’t stop thinking about the witch before her and her possible condition: subtly looking at her, Lilith couldn’t see anything wrong with Zelda Spellman – at least, not on the outside. Sure, her clothes fit her a little too tight, but she’d always had an average body figure and liked to wear dresses that highlighted her curves – not that Lilith had noticed, obviously, but, to be fair, it was quite hard not to. Would it have been wise to tell her about her suspicions? No, what an idiotic idea: they weren’t friends – they were acquaintances who barely tolerated each other – and Lilith had nothing whatsoever to do with all of that, anyway. Yet, she couldn’t get that insane situation off her mind. Absentmindedly, she took a matchbook out of a dusty drawer, but Zelda stopped her before she could light the half-melted rosy candle on her desk.

“Please, don’t. That dreadful thing has a terrible smell.”

Lilith, perhaps thoughtlessly, decided to seize the opportunity and, before her brain had fully comprehended the sounds her vocal chords were generating, began to talk. “Is that why you felt sick last week? The candle, I mean.” She’d overstepped and she was aware of it, but there was no point in beating around the bush. Not entirely sure why, she’d decided that she needed to know.

“What? No, of course. Just a bug. Maybe food poisoning. The food prepared at the Academy is not exactly worthy of three Michelin stars.” Zelda hadn’t given much thought to the demoness’ question and had answered distractedly.

“The students ate it for the rest of the week and nothing happened to them.” Lilith felt as though her head was already inside the lion’s mouth by that point, but she was determined to get to the bottom of that mystery.

“Well, then, I guess I can say for certain that it was a bug. Case closed. Why do you care so much?”, Zelda snapped, but she regained her composure once she remembered who she was talking to. Lilith was still the Queen of Hell, after all, and she was supposed to worship her. A rather nosy Queen, but a Queen nonetheless. The witch looked at the other woman with an inquisitive gaze, waiting for an answer.

“No reason.” Lilith lied, wondering how to broach the subject. “You see, I’m not familiar with the world of witches and I haven’t spent much time among your kind. But I have learned that there are several… conditions, good or bad, that might cause queasiness and… related symptoms.”

“I don’t think I understand.” Zelda looked genuinely puzzled, to the point that Lilith asked herself if the thought of being with child truly hadn’t crossed her mind. Wasn’t she a midwife? Wasn’t she supposed to know everything about childbearing and such? Hell, the demoness wished the other woman would simply catch her hint, but she couldn’t turn back then. Getting up from her chair, she tried to get closer to Zelda, who was still standing on the other side of the writing table.

Pausing for a second to catch her breath, not realizing that what she was about to suggest was going generate a strong, possibly terrible reaction on Zelda’s part, Lilith began to speak once again. “Yes, well, you and Father Blackwood were married for a while before his escape, so it wouldn’t be surprising if… I mean, I don’t mean to intrude, but I believe most people would be understanding if you were… I think it would actually be—”

“Satan in Hell!”, Zelda roared, causing Lilith to audibly gasp. “Lilith, I’m asking you, with all due respect, to think very carefully about what you will be saying next. I don’t like where this conversation is going.”

Lilith was stunned by the woman’s violent response, as if she’d forgotten, just for a brief moment, that she was talking to Zelda Spellman – cold, reserved, impetuous Zelda Spellman, who had probably never opened up about anything to anyone over the course of her entire life. Still, since she was already in quite deep water, she decided to push the issue. “As I said, I don’t think it would be a negative thing. But you must admit that you have been sick and it looks like you have no real explanation for—”

“How dare you!”, the redhead exclaimed. The witch had never looked so livid – at least, not in front of Lilith: her cheeks were flaming red and her light irises were glowing with anger. “How dare you imply that I might… I might be…”, Zelda tried to speak, but Lilith could see that wrathful tears were collecting behind her eyes. “And with Faust— I mean, with Father Blackwood? With _that_ man?”

“I’m not judging you!”, Lilith shouted, surprised by her own loudness. “If that’s the case, I could help. I want to.”

“You don’t understand.” Zelda said, desperately trying not to burst into tears, likely not wanting to appear weak in front of the other woman. “None of you do. How dare you—”

Lilith impulsively grabbed the other witch’s arm as she was walking swiftly towards the door. She hoped that the gesture hadn’t seemed too aggressive, because there was no violence or maliciousness in her intentions. “Then make me.” She said, and the words had a softness in them that she hadn’t anticipated. “Explain it to me, then. I will listen.”

Zelda lifted her gaze and stared into Lilith’s eyes for a moment that couldn’t possibly have lasted for more than a second, but it was long enough for the demoness to spot the anxiety in her eyes. What was she so afraid of? Was Zelda Spellman honestly concerned about what people would have thought of her, if she really had been expecting a babe? No, that was impossible: Lilith wasn’t sure the other woman knew that other witches and human beings, too, could have coherent thoughts, and that hers wasn’t the sole opinion that mattered in the whole damned world. What was the problem, then?

“You have no idea… Faustus is a horrible man.” Lilith, at that point, wasn’t sure if Zelda was talking to her or if she was simply thinking out loud. “He put me under a spell… I was under the Caligari Spell for so long. The whole time, I could see, feel, but I couldn’t choose. My whole life, I’ve always felt like I couldn’t choose. And when he did that to me, I just thought… I thought, well, it’s nothing new, really. It’s always been like this.”

“I’m sorry.” Lilith said, without letting go of her arm. “I am. But things are different now, and—”

“How?”, Zelda asked, her voice getting raspier. “How are things different? He could come back. Anything could happen, in fact. We have been attacked so many times! I can’t comprehend how people can feel safe around here. And to suggest that I might be… Satan, I can’t even say it out loud. I despise you for even having such thoughts!”

“He’s gone, Ms. Spellman. He won’t come back.” Lilith said, stroking the other woman’s forearm: the gesture might have looked almost mechanical to an outsider, but Lilith felt as if she were touching some sort of ancient idol; as if Zelda Spellman were a primordial deity she’d been somehow allowed to reach, but only for a fleeting moment. “He won’t hurt anybody. No one will. I won’t allow it.”

“You don’t know that.” Zelda looked defiantly at the first woman as she pronounced those words. “You promised to protect us, but how do we know that you will not betray us all when defending us is no longer convenient for you? Please, don’t lie to me. Don’t act like you wouldn’t.”

Lilith tried to scream something back, searched for words to defend herself with, anything to prove to the woman in front of her and to the rest of the coven that she was going to stay, that she was going make everything right again. But how could she have promised a thing like that when she’d been nothing but selfish and greedy her entire life? After her fall from grace, she’d only ever thought about herself – and the Dark Lord, surely, but even then, she worshiped him to satisfy her own glorious ambitions. She’d never saved anyone from harm before, never done a selfless act in all the cruel years she’d spent between the demonic world and the mortal one. No, caring was a thing meant for other people, for humans, warlocks and witches: she was meant to hate, slaughter and conquer, and there were no soft things within her. No amount of pretending could have changed that and she knew it. No, it was worse than that, she thought, because _Zelda Spellman_ knew it, and even if she pretended it didn’t, her lack of faith in her hurt her deeply. As a genuine pain blossomed in her breast, the room began to spin uncontrollably.

“I can try…”, she tried to say, but the words were bitter as they left her mouth and she felt bile rising in her throat.

“I’m sure you will.” Zelda cackled sarcastically, and something inside Lilith broke into millions of small pieces. “You will let us down. You will let _me_ down. Everyone else already has.”

The witch harshly moved her arm away from Lilith’s reach and started twisting the rings on her fingers, uncomfortably. The demoness, in her fogged state, noticed that she was no longer wearing her wedding ring on her left hand. “I will go now.” Zelda said, at last. “I think it’s best if I resume my duties and you… Well, you keep reigning over us witches, waiting for something better. For something more. I’m sure you will find it, eventually.”

As Zelda left and closed the door behind her, Lilith fell back into her chair. The ache she’d experienced mere seconds before had slowly started to turn into primal rage: how dared Zelda Spellman treat her like that? How dared a subject of hers, a woman who was supposed to adore her, to sacrifice virgins and beasts in her name, talk to her as if she were just another common witch she was having an unpleasant diatribe with? Her instincts immediately told her to seek revenge against the redheaded woman, but her body was tired and Lilith knew that, deep inside her heart, something had changed.

She didn’t want to hurt Zelda Spellman: in fact, the whole ordeal had begun because she’d only wanted to help her. Sure, she had come to the conclusion that she had overstepped, but she’d simply done it out of… out of what? Love? No, not that. The thing was, Lilith knew loneliness: she’d been alone her whole life and she’d sensed that Zelda, too, must have been lost, in some way. If she truly were expecting, she was willing to help her: she detested babes and she knew nothing about them, but she could protect her. She thought about the child, too: a babe conceived and born amidst chaos and hatred, from a scared mother and an evil father. What kind of life could such a creature have led? She thought about what Zelda had said to her in her vision: _“I can wait. I will wait”_. What in the name of Satan had that even meant? No, she thought, if Zelda was sure she wasn’t carrying Faustus’ child, then the matter was settled and she needn’t worry about it any longer. Sabrina’s potion hadn’t worked and everything that had happened was due to a series of absurd coincidences. The Queen of Hell had other matters to worry about, anyway.

She got up from her chair and opened the curtains: the sun was shining brightly and it abruptly illuminated the room, revealing all of its dusty corners and all of Lilith’s ache, too. Unable to get the events of the morning out of her head, she picked up her purse, put her sunglasses on and decided to leave. On her way out, her secretary smiled desolately at her: had she heard snippets of her conversation with Zelda Spellman? Even if she had, Lilith decided, she didn’t really care. She had, at last, chosen not to think about the Spellmans anymore and go back to her house, maybe pay a visit to her servants in Hell. Truthfully, her demonic to-do list contained very few items, but she was going to find something to do to pass the time. Anything interesting enough to take her mind off Zelda and her non-existent babe, Hilda and her foul-smelling remedies and Sabrina and her dreadful, devastating ideas was going to do the trick.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with another part of this story! I’m trying to write between 3000 and 4000 words per chapter, but I’m not sure what the general rule of thumb is. Let me know if you guys are happy with this system or if you’d prefer longer/shorter sections. Enjoy and feel free to leave a comment if you want!

The day of the Solstice Ball arrived rapidly, as Lilith had spent most of the week reigning over Hell and hadn’t noticed the passing of time. She’d asked her secretary to take care of things at the Academy for her and had hoped for Zelda Spellman to take over and do the rest. Having control over the school and the coven was everything the other witch had ever wanted, wasn’t it? However, since the balance of power in the demonic world had been restored after Lucifer’s fall, there wasn’t much to do for Lilith in Hell. Bored out of her mind, she’d chosen to go back to Greendale in time for the Ball, which, she’d been told, was always quite a party. She wasn’t expecting to enjoy it, of course, but she found the silly traditions of witches and mortals amusing and was, admittedly, curious. She also hadn’t seen Zelda since the fight they’d had in her office and was hoping to get the chance to see her and maybe – even if the simple thought of it made her nauseous – apologize to the her.

As she went back to her shack in the mortal world, a realization flashed across her mind like lightning: she had absolutely nothing to wear to the Ball. Not that she cared that much, but it would have seemed ridiculous for the Queen of Hell to show up to such an occasion wearing Mary Wardwell’s old-fashioned clothes. But where was she going to find a decent dress in that short amount of time? After considering her options, she came to the conclusion that she had no choice but to ask for Hilda Spellman’s help: she knew the friendly witch had sewn the clothes the Spellman family had worn at the masquerade ball held in Lucifer’s honor and hoped she would have had enough time to come to her aid.

She checked the time on her watch: it was four in the afternoon, but Zelda usually worked until late hours at the Academy, which meant that the odds of running into her at the mansion were slim. Besides, the Ball was that night, which meant that the witch was likely running around tyrannically, barking orders left and right. Lilith decided that she liked her chances and teleported herself to the Spellman residence.

“Oh, good afternoon!”, Hilda exclaimed, opening the front door. “I’m sorry it took so long, lots of bodies to embalm this time of the year. Do come in!”

Lilith nodded and stepped inside. Hilda had opened the door after she’d been ringing the bell for about five minutes and had started to fear the witch might not have been home. Thankfully, Hilda was just preparing a corpse for a funeral in the back room – the family still owned the mortuary, after all – and had seemed pleased to see the first woman.

“I hope I’m not bothering you.” Lilith said. “I stopped by because I need a favor, actually.”

“Oh?”, Hilda appeared to be surprised, probably wondering what in the name of Satan the Queen of Hell wanted from her.

“Yes, well, if you’re not busy. The Ball— The Solstice Ball, at the Academy, is tonight and…”, Lilith was having trouble continuing the sentence, realizing that she sounded like a preppy schoolgirl asking her mother to buy her a fancy outfit for prom. “I was wondering if you could come to my rescue. You see, I don’t have a dress—”

“Say no more!”, Hilda shouted, as wide smile blossomed on her lips. “I would love to help! I finished sewing Sabrina’s gown two days ago – too fancy, if you ask me, but, you know, teenagers! – and I still have all the necessary equipment in my room. Please, follow me.”

Lilith, who hadn’t expected such an enthusiastic reaction from the other witch, immediately thanked her and let her lead her to the master bedroom. As she walked up the stairs, she looked around to see if anybody else was home, but it seemed that the entire family was out – which was a good thing, she thought, because she didn’t know if Zelda wanted her anywhere near her house, at that point.

“Here we are!”, exclaimed Hilda, probably looking forward to telling everyone that she’d helped the Queen of Hell find a dress for the Solstice Ball. “Please, make yourself at home! I’ll have to rummage through my supply closet for a moment, but I’ll be right back.” She said, gesturing to Lilith to sit on one of the two beds and then exiting the room.

Lilith felt surprisingly at ease in the large bedroom: the curtains were open and a pleasant afternoon light illuminated the ancient furniture. Staring at the two beds, the woman wondered which one belonged to Zelda: after inspecting the books on each night table and noticing no less than three Satanic Bibles on top of one of them, she came to the conclusion that the one on the right must have been hers. She sat on the other one, as she didn’t want to invade Zelda’s private space and feared the possibility of the other witch walking into the room and finding her casually seated on her bed. Driven by her innate curiosity, she began to look around the room, distractedly, until she spotted something oddly familiar: in a corner stood an old rocking chair, covered in blankets, clothes and all kinds of children toys, which, years earlier, had likely belonged to Sabrina and Ambrose. Rethinking about the vision she’d had a few days before, she wondered if that decrepit chair could have been the same one she’d seen in her dream, or if it was, at least, a sign of sorts.

Her thoughts, however, were interrupted by the sound of Hilda hurriedly walking down the corridor. As she entered the room, a somber expression crossed her face. “There might be a tiny, tiny problem.” She said, looking blue. “It appears that I’m all out of fabric! Which is weird, truthfully, because I was so sure I still had some left after making Sabrina’s dress. Scratches on the closet door are leading me to think that Salem might have found it and misplaced it, or maybe destroyed it! That treacherous little creature—”

“It’s fine.” Lilith interrupted her with a wave of her hand. “I’ll find another solution. I’m very sorry for wasting your time.”

“Nonsense, dear!”, Hilda stopped her from grabbing the door handle. “This can be solved easily and it will be quicker than anticipated! I’ll borrow one of Zelda’s dresses – she has dozens of them, anyway – and alter it a tad bit so that it’ll fit you perfectly.”

“Oh, no, I could never!”, cried Lilith, uncomfortably. She was sure Zelda would have made her pay if she’d found her wearing her beloved clothes. “It’s alright, really. I’ll simply—”

“Do not fret, darling.” Lilith winced at the epithet. “Zelda won’t mind, you can trust me on that. My sister does seem rather controlling, and perhaps even possessive, and maybe just slightly egoistical, at times—”, Hilda stopped herself when she realized she was going off on a tangent. “Well, what I mean to say is that she thinks highly of you and she won’t mind if we borrow something from her wardrobe.”

Lilith knew that the Spellman matriarch had little regard for her after their recent fight, but she couldn’t tell Hilda what had happened between her and her sister – out of respect, of course, but mostly because she thought Zelda capable of murder for lesser offenses. Defeated, she prayed that the witch was going to understand and accepted Hilda’s proposal.

“Magnificent! I know just the dress that would make you look breathtaking.” Hilda smiled, diving into her sister’s hefty closet. After a brief moment, she came out holding a beautiful, long-sleeved emerald gown, edged in gold. The first woman had no choice but to admit that the outfit was rather striking, but she couldn’t have imagined borrowing a thing like that from a woman who detested her.

“It’s stunning, Ms. Spellman, but I don’t think I could ever wear it. Your sister might be too fond of such a gorgeous dress and I wouldn’t want to ruin it.”

“Oh, that’s rubbish! I reckon she’s worn it maybe two times in her life and never for important occasions.” Hilda reassured her. “Believe me, I’m sure she won’t complain.”

Not completely free from worry, but definitely more at peace, Lilith gave in. Hilda turned around as she tried the gown on and, once the Queen of Hell told her she could turn back, was rendered speechless by what she saw. “Oh, aren’t you spectacular!”, she said, a vast smile making its way to her pink lips. “We’ll just need to make some adjustments, as you’re a little thinner than Zelda, and maybe work a little on the bosom, but I think you’ll look fantastic once we’re done!”

Unintentionally, Lilith also grinned, as the other witch softly squeezed her arm and started to gather pins and needles. In fact, she’d come to the realization that she didn’t mind Hilda’s company at all: unlike her sister, the woman was always kind, generous and incredibly warm, though Lilith knew, from her own experience, that dealing with Zelda Spellman wasn’t easy and she suspected that the witch might have suffered a great deal because of her sister’s hostile nature, at least in the past. The demoness observed the witch as she began to alter the dress to better fit her figure and, staring at her own reflection in the old mirror in front of her, started to believe that she truly did look quite beautiful in it.

Hilda had been working on Lilith’s outfit for almost an hour when the two women heard familiar, high-heeled steps echoing down the corridor. The demoness’ stomach dropped once she realized that Zelda Spellman was walking towards the main bedroom, but Hilda didn’t seem worried and Lilith, reassured by the other witch’s composure, managed to keep her cool.

“Hello, Zelds!”, Hilda said, cheerfully, the moment her sister walked into the room. “Look who decided to pay us a visit!”

To say that the other witch looked surprised would have been an understatement: obviously not expecting to see Lilith there, after she’d gone back to Hell for so long, she was even more shocked by the sight of the Queen of Hell wearing one of her fine dresses. Puzzled and enraged, she tried to control her temper, but her voice sounded irritated and her hands were subtly trembling. “And to what do we owe the pleasure, if I may ask?”

“The Solstice Ball!”, Hilda replied, either blind to her sister’s anger or ignoring it completely. “Our Queen needed a new dress for the event and asked me – me, can you believe it? – for help, but I fear Salem might have mistaken our pretty silks for cat toys and we are now all out of fabric! I thought I could borrow one of your dresses and alter it slightly. I’m sure you won’t mind, since you have so many and—”

“I could take it off and look for something else, if you’d prefer.” Lilith offered, afraid that she might have offended the other witch to a point of no return.

Zelda stared intensely at the first woman, her eyes running from the tight fitting of her waist to the modifications that her sister had made to accommodate the demoness’ breasts. “Hilda is correct, I don’t mind.” She said, at last, looking away. “Fits you better, anyway.”

Lilith wanted to reply that she couldn’t have pictured any article of clothing looking better on her than it did on Zelda, but restrained herself from pronouncing the words and thanked her instead. “You’re very kind. I’ll give it back as soon as the Ball is over.”

“Keep it, I don’t care.” The witch said, though it was clear, at least to Lilith, that she did, in fact, care very much. “I’ll have to get dressed, too. The Ball starts in less than two hours and I don’t trust the other professors enough to let them chaperone the event by themselves. I think you should help as well, Lilith. That Scratch boy tried to sneak three bottles of whiskey into the dormitories earlier today and I have a feeling that we might need an extra set of eyes tonight.”

“Absolutely.” Lilith replied. “I wasn’t planning on dancing and drinking punch all night long, anyway. Will you be coming, Ms. Spellman?”, she added, looking at Hilda.

“I think I will, yes.” The witch said, happy that she’d been included in the conversation. “I might step by a couple of hours in, just to say hi. I don’t really have a dress, but I will figure something out—”

“Would you mind figuring it out later, sister? I need to get ready.” Zelda interrupted her, pointing at her own gown for the night, laid on an antique desk to prevent wrinkling. Lilith hadn’t noticed the dress until then and was shocked by the choice of color: instead of her usual blacks and blues, Zelda had chosen a modest sleeveless white dress, with a golden belt strapped around the abdomen. Hilda handed it to her and the witch promptly asked the two women to turn around so that she could change.

Lilith’s cheeks became bright red at the thought of the other woman changing mere feet away from her and she wanted to slap herself across the face for it. She tried not to think about it, as she felt Hilda’s hands place a small, green ribbon around her thin neck. “I believe this will perfectly complete your look. It was our mother’s, but I’d be happy to let you borrow it, if you’d like.” She whispered, blissfully.

Lilith nodded and was about to thank the kind witch when Zelda, in an uncharacteristically high voice, began to complain. “What the Heaven, Hilda?!”, she yelled, as the other two women turned around to face her. Zelda was standing in the middle of the room, her face crimson, her dress only half-worn and unzipped. “What did you do to this Satan-forsaken dress? Is this a sick joke of some sort?”

“What?”, her sister asked, appearing genuinely confused. “What do you mean? I haven’t touched it since you last tried it on, about three weeks ago. What’s wrong?”

“Oh, ‘what’s wrong’, you ask? I’ll tell you what’s wrong!”, Zelda said, suppressing a long string of profanities. “It doesn’t fit! Look, I can barely breathe in it and it’s not even zipped-up. I bet you did something to it. Did one of your ridiculous spells go wrong? What happened, Hilda?”

“Nothing, I swear!”, Lilith could see that Hilda was on the verge of tears as she tried to explain to her sister that she had nothing to do with that mess. “Maybe it shrunk! I don’t see how, since I haven’t washed it, but I assure you I haven’t even touched it in the past few days!”

Lilith’s mind immediately wandered back to everything that had happened over the previous weeks – her strange suppositions, all the evidence behind them, her last conversation with Zelda – and her mouth formed the words before her brain had processed them. “You might have merely gained some weight. It happens, I think, to witches and mortals. Especially if—”

“What?!”, Zelda yelled, and Lilith realized her mistake: the witch looked as if the other woman had just murdered her whole family and insulted the entirety of her ancestry. “First, you come into my life – into _our_ lives – creating chaos, making odd assumptions and accusing me of— I don’t know how you could— And then you _insult_ me for absolutely no reason? After I chose to lend you my possessions? What kind of Queen doesn’t have thousands of dresses prepared for all occasions, anyway? And I don’t—”

“Zelda, stop.” Hilda said, sternly. Lilith had never heard her use that kind of tone when speaking to her sister and she wondered if she, too, had some toughness in her. “I’m not sure which accusations you’re talking about and perhaps it’s not my place to know, but I’m sure our Queen didn’t mean to offend you. You’ve been quite stressed, lately, so it would be understandable if you had put on some weight. I’ll make some adjustments in no time and the dress will fit you perfectly once again.”

Both Zelda and Lilith reacted with an uncommon silence to Hilda’s reasonable statement. Zelda, in particular, raised her gaze from the woman who had just offended her, staring into space, absentmindedly. As Hilda went to grab some leftover pieces of cloth to alter her sister’s dress, Lilith felt like she had to apologize – for the rudeness, for the insinuations, for everything. “I really am sorry.” She said, after a few more silent instants, and the words did not carry the sour taste she’d expected them to hold. “In case you haven’t noticed, I occasionally say things without thinking about their consequences. And I’m very sorry for it.”

The Spellman matriarch didn’t open her mouth for quite some time after that, distractedly massaging her temples. At last, as she locked eyes with the demoness, she decided to reply. “I have noticed.” She said, pausing for a second, perhaps to let Lilith know that her comment had been, indeed, meant to sound impertinent. “But I might have reacted… unreasonably. As Hilda said, managing the Academy by myself has been stressful and your supposition might not be too far from the truth. I haven’t had much time to look after myself, as you might have realized.”

That last sentence hid a certain sadness that made Lilith’s conscience feel heavy: Zelda had been forced to run the school without help because Lilith herself hadn’t been there. Even though the demoness thought that was what the other witch wanted, it was clear, then, that she could still use a helping hand, every once in a while. Suddenly, the first woman felt ashamed of her conduct: when things had gotten difficult, instead of staying and trying to fix them, she’d gone back to Hell, ignoring the woes and hardships of witches, exactly like Zelda had predicted she would have. Her heart sank as she came to the conclusion that she’d disappointed the other witch once again and she hadn’t even noticed it, which made matters even worse.

“I will spend more time at the Academy, fulfilling my duties.” She said, finally, her face soft and sorrowful.

“You don’t have to.” Zelda dismissed her proposition, perhaps not even taking it seriously in the first place.

“I want to.” Lilith tried to explain. “I really do. I apologize for disappearing so soon and for so long after our last conversation. I didn’t mean to offend you and I hope you know that—”

Zelda stopped her, quickly walking towards her and placing her delicate hand on her forearm. Lilith tried not to think of Zelda Spellman’s perfect fingers, her flawless black nail polish and the elegant ring she always wore on her middle finger – all of it being so close to her, touching her, feeling her. “Maybe…”, Zelda began to whisper. “I’m thinking that maybe you weren’t… fully wrong. I have to ask—”

“Oh, well, isn’t it nice to see that the two of you have finally made peace! It was all a big misunderstanding, after all, wasn’t it?”, Hilda barged in, glad to see the two women talking again. Zelda stopped speaking, but mumbled a rapid, almost imperceptible ‘I’ll tell later’ and Lilith knew that their conversation was far from over.

Hilda finished working on Lilith’s dress and began to alter her sister’s, who was standing on a short stool, visibly annoyed by the slight change of plans. As soon as the demoness had removed her new dress and put on Mary Wardwell’s clothes, she turned to the sisters. “Thank you very much for your help, I truly am in debt to you. I will bring this back as soon as the Ball is over, I promise.”

“I meant it when I said you could keep it.” Zelda muttered, now looking at the first woman with eyes that hid, someplace deep, a hint of gentleness. “You are quite striking in it, after all.”

“Thank you.” Lilith said, avoiding her gaze. She gathered up her things and was about to leave the room when, suddenly, without much pondering, she turned to the other woman – who, with smudged make-up, uncombed hair and a gown that didn’t quite fit her, was, in that very moment, anything but elegant – and spoke to her one last time. “For what it’s worth, I think you look beautiful, too. In any occasion.” She almost regretted those last words, for they had sounded too banal, but it was the truth. “I will see you both tonight, I hope.”

As she left the master bedroom, Lilith wondered if a timid smile had, unwillingly, formed around Zelda’s mouth, or if it had merely been a trick of the light. She chose to believe the second hypothesis, because it was safe and reasonable, but secretly rooted for the first. When she closed the huge door of the Spellman mansion behind her, she found herself unexpectedly anxious to attend the Ball. She went back to her cottage in the human world to brush her hair and fix her make-up and then teleported herself to her office at the Academy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another week, another chapter! My country is currently in lockdown because of the virus, which, at least, means I’ll have more time to write over the next few weeks. Sending good vibes to all those in similar situations and I hope fics, books, movies and series will help you get your mind off things. We’ll get through this!

Even though she didn’t want to admit it, Lilith was nervous: sitting in her old, uncomfortable chair in her office at the Academy, the first woman wasn’t quite sure what to do. She’d glanced at the ancient grandfather clock about a thousand times by then and she knew the Ball had started almost an hour earlier, but she hadn’t made an appearance yet. She knew that Zelda was going to be furious by the time she would reach the main hall and she was dying to know what the other witch had tried to tell her earlier, but she was too – uncommonly – agitated to get up and go downstairs, where the party was happening. The students barely knew her and she wasn’t sure the teachers liked her, or if they even had an opinion of her at all: undoubtedly, she was their Queen, and warlocks and witches showed her respect, but she didn’t feel at ease in the magical world and kept thinking of herself as a powerful outsider, needed but not wanted. Twiddling her thumbs, trying to pull herself together, she heard restless knocking at the door.

“Who is it?”, she answered, quickly getting up.

“Lilith?”, a known voice came from the other side of the door. “It’s me, Sabrina. May I come in?”

The demoness sighed, even if she knew that someone, sooner rather than later, would have noticed her absence. She only wished it hadn’t been Zelda Spellman’s niece. “Yes, Sabrina.” She grumbled, not ready for whatever conversation was about to take place.

“Good evening!”, the young witch said, energetically opening the door. She was wearing a knee-length blue silk dress, decorated with dozens of tiny pearls: Hilda had certainly done a superb job at sewing her niece’s gown. “I’m sorry for bothering you, but we noticed you weren’t in the main hall and wanted to check in on you. Wouldn’t you like to come downstairs? The Ball is going wonderfully, even if Auntie Zee has already confiscated _a lot_ of alcohol.” She added, smirking.

The girl had said ‘we’, which meant Zelda had probably sent her there and was likely annoyed by Lilith’s absence. Resigned, Lilith decided that she had to at least pay a short visit to the rest of the coven, since she’d already put the Spellman sisters through much trouble because of her outfit for the night. “I’ll come in a minute.” She announced.

“Good, because we’re all waiting for you! Well, not all of us, technically – a certain trio of young witches is too busy seducing every boy and girl in sight to care, and the dance floor is so heated you’d think it was Lupercalia again already! But honestly, I—”, Sabrina stopped her blabbering when her eyes focused on the Queen of Hell’s splendid outfit. “Oh, wow! Lilith, you look beautiful! I think Aunt Zelda has a dress exactly like that.”

“I know.” Lilith replied. “She lent it to me.”

“She… lent it? To you?”, Sabrina chuckled, both amazed and amused. “Willingly?”

“Yes, _willingly_. Do you believe I would steal from her?”, Lilith hissed, annoyed by the girl’s impertinence. Like aunt, like niece. “She was kind enough to give it to me once I told her I had nothing to wear for the Ball.” That wasn’t how the confrontation had gone, but the demoness didn’t want to go into much detail.

“Well, that’s quite… out of character. She wouldn’t even let me play dress up with her clothes as a child. I guess you’ll be treating that dress with more care than I would have back when I was five, though.” Sabrina laughed again. “Alright! We hope to see you soon, then.”

“Yes, of course.” Lilith surrendered. “I’ll be down in a second, I promise.”

“Great! I’ll go warn everybody!”, Sabrina yelled, bolting out of the room.

“No, wait!”, Lilith tried to say, but the young woman was already out of earshot. She groaned once again, hoping that Sabrina would privately tell her aunt that she was coming, instead of making a big fuss about it. After checking her reflection in the baroque mirror one last time, she took in a deep breath and shyly made her way to the hall, telling herself that people were going to be too busy dancing and trying to sneak bottles of gin in to pay attention to her.

Unfortunately for Lilith, what happened next was quite the opposite: as she walked through one of the secondary entrances, attempting an unnoticed appearance, a violet stage light shone directly on her, followed by a short wave of applause. “Let’s give it up for our Queen, Lilith, everybody!”, Sabrina screeched, having stolen a giant microphone from the scrawny-looking warlock who had stopped the music the moment Lilith had walked in.

“Thank you, thank you!”, Lilith exclaimed, rather embarrassed. “Please, do not let my arrival interrupt the Ball. Do continue doing… whatever it is that you were doing before I came in.” She’d tried to sound friendly – young, even – but realized her words had sounded pompous, instead, when several students looked at each other with inquisitive eyes, wondering if their Queen was making fun of their party, or if she simply wasn’t used to witchy traditions. Desperately needing to get out of the spotlight, she saw Zelda as the witch leaned on the wall next to the punch – most certainly guarding it, in order to prevent spiking attempts. Next to her, Hilda was deep in conversation with the owner of Cerberus Books, whom Lilith hadn’t yet had the pleasure to meet. After realizing that talking to the Spellman sisters was the lesser of two evils in that very moment, she chose to approach her High Priestess, who hadn’t acknowledged her entrance at all.

Slowly getting closer to her, Lilith noticed that Zelda looked even more beautiful than she had when she’d last seen her that same afternoon at the Spellman mansion: it wasn’t merely the newly-applied make-up, or the immaculate, shining red hair, but the very strength and austerity in the stance she always assumed in the line of duty – either as a teacher, at the Academy, or as Sabrina’s stern aunt, in her everyday life – made her look glorious. Dazzled, she tried to think of something to say when she was practically standing next to the other woman, but, thankfully, Zelda talked first.

“Nice of you to come, Your Majesty.” Lilith had ordered her subjects multiple times not to call her that, so she knew that, under the pretense of respect, Zelda was secretly mocking her. “The scoundrels who tried to bring illegal substances into the school have already been dealt with. You’re free to go, if you don’t enjoy the company.”

Lilith tried not to mind Zelda’s impudence, at first. “Oh, I haven’t been introduced to one third of the company yet, so I wouldn’t know.” She replied, looking in Doctor Cerberus’ direction.

Zelda took the hint and promptly introduced the two of them, not paying attention to the way her sister could have killed her with a single glance when she’d interrupted the intense exchange that had been taking place between Hilda and the bookshop owner. Cerberus greeted the Queen with excessive reverence and she was bored by his manners and choice of topics within minutes of making his acquaintance. Around her, students were clumsily dancing to the rhythm of pseudo-classical music, a melody that later turned into a series of progressively louder rock songs and indie tunes. As Lilith told herself she could have happily lived many more years without ever having to listen to anything like that again, she was suddenly brought back into the conversation when she heard a masculine voice pronounce the word ‘Queen’.

“Pardon me?”, she stuttered, slightly embarrassed to be caught not paying attention.

“Oh, nothing, really. I was simply wondering about our Queen’s plans for the Church.” Cerberus cheerfully asked, as Hilda observed him with eyes filled with – unjustified, certainly, according to both Lilith and Zelda – admiration. “Now that Lucifer’s no longer in charge, I’m guessing some of the traditions of the Church of Night will have to change.”

“Church of Lilith.” Zelda corrected him, her voice hoarse. “We’re the Church of Lilith, now.”

Doctor Cerberus nodded, appearing frightened by the witch’s brutal glare. Lilith licked her lips, preparing herself to say something, but she wasn’t quite sure what to answer: of course, with her on the throne, things had to change and centuries of unjust, bigoted traditions had to be undone. However, she hadn’t thought about any of that, at all, and the curious question had taken her by surprise. Before she managed to mutter a reply, Zelda took the floor.

“I’m sure our Queen will come up with something, eventually.” A teasing, malevolent grin had formed on her face. “I’m afraid she’s been too busy savoring her newfound power to think about her poor servants. In the meantime, we’ll continue practicing our usual rites – except for the most macabre ones, clearly, which will have to go. Or, perhaps, they won’t. What do I know, after all? I’m no monarch.”

“Zelds—”, Hilda tried to interrupt her, but there was no point in trying to stop Zelda Spellman once she’d gone off on one of her infamous rants.

“In fact, I’ve heard that our Queen enjoys the taste of flesh, every once in a while. Is it only human flesh, Lilith? Are our bitter, witching bodies not tender enough for you? Maybe she’ll want to keep celebrating our Feast of Feasts! Who knows, really!”, the woman’s last words almost came out as a shout and Hilda’s and Cerberus’ faces began to pale.

The demoness was horrified by the witch’s behavior: she was openly ridiculing her, while sheer hours before she’d seemed on the verge of confessing something rather personal to her. What the Heaven was going on with that woman? Who did she think she was? Fuming, Lilith nodded at Hilda, who was still standing close to the boring bookshop chap, and then locked eyes with Zelda, who held her accusatory gaze. “That’s enough, Ms. Spellman. I think we should talk. Let’s go to my office.” It was no suggestion, Zelda knew that: it was an order and, as such, it needed to be followed.

“I think it’s best if we use one of the secondary doors. The dance floor is quite chaotic, at the moment.” Zelda replied, not taking her eyes off the mother of all demons. As a dull remix of an inappropriate mortal pop song played in the background, Lilith and Zelda quietly left the room. 

They didn’t talk to each other as they went upstairs, climbing the antique, majestic staircase that led to what was once Faustus Blackwood’s office. Lilith couldn’t tell if Zelda was afraid of her, at that point: knowing the woman, she probably wasn’t, but she must have been at least concerned by her request to speak to her in private. Truth be told, Lilith didn’t know what she was going to say, either: she was only hoping to talk some sense into the witch and let her know that she was still the Queen of Hell – the great, almighty Queen the whole coven worshiped – and that she expected to be treated like one. Once they’d reached the room, the demoness opened the door for Zelda and let her in first: she was still a gentlewoman, after all.

“Sit.” Lilith ordered, pointing at the couch.

“I’d rather stand, if you don’t mind.” The other woman replied, coldly. She was standing near the half-opened window, staring at the black sky.

“I do mind.” Lilith cried out, words rushing out of her mouth like a river in flood. “I mind a lot, in fact. I mind when you disrespect me, when you overtly mock me in front of others – or in geneal, really, because a subject— a witch shouldn’t mock the very being she prays to. If you even _do_ pray to me.”

“Of course I do!”, Zelda shouted back, offended by the accusation.

“Do you? Really?”, Lilith roared, as a small vein began to pulse on her shiny forehead. “Because I hear a lot of voices praying to me, at night, but never yours. There’s always some widow asking for a last, dreamlike visit from her husband, or a barren hag wishing to be blessed with a child – for Hell’s sake, I even feel your sister’s tears as she secretly begs for that bookstore owner’s love – but you, Zelda Spellman, are never there. Why? Why does your voice never join the imploring choir?”

“Maybe it’s because I don’t think you would _fucking_ listen!”, the witch yelled, hot tears lining her scarlet cheeks. Lilith had never heard the woman swear before and was taken aback for a brief moment.

“I don’t trust you, Lilith.” She continued, repressing a sob. “Sometimes, I think I could. I need to trust someone, or I’ll go insane, so I believe it, just for a second. But then, you disappear in Hell for days, or you don’t show up at the Academy for weeks, or do something equally irresponsible that makes me realize what a fool I am! And so is everyone who believes that you could make things better for us – for the coven. Because I know you, Lilith. I know that you don’t listen, and I know that you don’t care.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” Lilith replied, more hurt than infuriated. “Would I even be here if I didn’t care? Would I be having this conversation with you, in this very instant, if I weren’t worried about the safety of this coven? About _your_ safety?”

A grave silence fell between them for a second and Lilith observed Zelda as she tried to collect herself, but her eyes were still quietly weeping, her hands shaking and her make-up for the night had been ruined beyond repair. “I’m trying my best.” The first woman added. “I showed up at that dreadful Ball, downstairs, even if I felt my guts churning the entire time. I tried to do my duty here, at the Academy – well, before my latest disappearance, at least. I’ve yearned for Lucifer’s throne for centuries and now that I’ve acquired it, I don’t quite know what to do with it. I thought it’d be different, somehow. I don’t know.”

Once she saw that the other woman still wasn’t ready to respond, Lilith approached her, momentarily gazing out of the window alongside her. They were standing on top of the wine stain Lilith had produced mere weeks before, but neither one of them seemed to be bothered by that. “I’m tired.” The demoness mumbled, after another long moment of silent wait. “I would like to stop arguing with you, but I don’t think that will ever be possible, even though we’ve been over this same bitterness many times already. I wish you could trust that my intentions are good.”

Zelda finally lifted her gaze, her eyes swollen and exhausted. She looked ages older – quite the opposite of the breathtaking sight of a firm, tough woman that had struck Lilith in the main hall. Drained of all energies, she took a cigarette from the old pack she’d left on top of the marble fireplace a fortnight earlier and lit it, without asking for Lilith’s permission first. Lilith would have given it to her. After the first puff, her face contorted into a grimace and she put the cigarette out on the windowsill. She then looked at the first woman and moved a lock of her own red hair from her puffy face, once again beginning to sob.

“Please, don’t. We could sit, if you—”

“I’m pregnant.” Zelda snapped, no longer able to control her rage, a great tremor overtaking her. “You were right. And I’m an imprudent, foolish woman.”

The revelation had come in such a spontaneous, unexpected way that Lilith had almost asked the witch to repeat herself – which would have been a huge mistake, obviously. Instead, she took the risk of getting her hand yanked away from Mary Wardwell’s body and gently let it rest on the other woman’s shoulder. She was expecting an immediate rejection, perhaps followed by insensitive words and coldblooded insults, but was met with unexpected tenderness: almost instinctively, Zelda took Lilith’s hand into her own and squeezed softly, still looking into her blue eyes. They stared at each other for a short-lived moment of gentleness, and Lilith could barely breathe as she delicately massaged the distraught witch’s palm. Unfortunately, as we all know, such instants of warmth cannot last forever, and Zelda stepped away from the first woman as soon as she regained control of herself, sniffling and wiping her cherry-colored cheeks.

“Yes, well, now you know.” She said, one last, great sob escaping her. “You’re the first, actually. Not that it makes a difference. I can’t keep… this.”

“You mean…”, Lilith couldn’t bring herself to say it. Not that she would have judged the other woman if she’d chosen to get rid of her problem, but that outcome would have contradicted her previous vision – which, she was then certain, had been truthful, at least partially.

“Does it look like I have a choice, Lilith?”, Zelda blurted out. “Imagine what would happen if I went through with this. Imagine if Blackwood came back. Who could protect me, then? Who could protect… us?”

“He won’t—”

“There’s no way to know that.” The Spellman matriarch interrupted the first woman’s attempt at protesting.

“Yes, there is. If the traitor sets foot anywhere near this place, I will murder him with my bare hands and let the entire coven feast on his flesh.” A sudden, deranged light began to shine in Lilith’s eyes. “No matter what you choose to do, Ms. Spellman, you will have plenty of people standing by your side. Including me. I need you to understand that.”

Zelda once again looked as if she were on the verge of tears and Lilith desperately wanted to prevent another outburst. “Will you come to my house, tomorrow night?”, she asked, meeting the witch’s eye. “I will not judge you, nor pressure you. I believe, however, that you might need to talk about this with someone who isn’t directly related to you. I would like to be that person, if you think that may be the case.”

The other woman tightly clenched her jaw and Lilith feared she had overstepped once again, but was relieved when Zelda finally spoke. “I think I would like that.” The corners of her lips rose a little as the words passed through them, but it was a miserable, resigned smile. “I don’t expect to be able to reason coherently at the moment, anyway. Besides, we’ve already had several arguments in this office and a change of scenery would count as progress, I suppose.”

Was Zelda Spellman making a joke? Had the pregnancy already changed her that much? Lilith couldn’t help but secretly grin, and was still smirking as the redhead walked out of the room after a quick goodbye, a gaze full of worry and hope and a promise to meet the mother of demons at her cottage in Greendale the following evening.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope everyone’s safe and staying inside. These are difficult times, but we can get through this together. I will take just a minute of your time with this little disclaimer: I believe every work of fiction, no matter how small, has the power to influence people. Because of that, and because of the subject of this chapter, without spoiling too much, I would like to specify that I am absolutely pro-choice when it comes to the topic of abortion. This chapter talks about it a lot (though not explicitly or graphically), so if you’re not comfortable with it for any reason at all you should probably just skip it, or maybe jump right to the last few sentences. That’s all, I hope you will enjoy this new part!

Lilith had been staring out of her kitchen window since the moment she’d come back home from the Academy that afternoon, feeling like an awkward teenager waiting for her date to come pick her up in a beat-up truck. Except, the mother of demons was no gauche teen and the occasion itself was far from an exciting one. During the day, she’d only spotted Zelda for a brief moment as the solemn witch was walking towards to practice room, where she usually held her chorus lessons. She hadn’t talked to her to confirm their meeting and hoped the other woman was going to remember. Well, in fact, she knew she was going to, for Zelda had an exceptional memory: what she feared was that the Spellman matriarch would have either been too scared, too proud or too doubtful to come to her that night. She also hadn’t given her a time for their appointment, which had caused Lilith to hurriedly clean up the whole shack the second she’d stepped foot inside, as she didn’t want Zelda Spellman to judge her little cottage’s cluttered state.

After looking around and deciding that her home looked livable enough, she’d uncorked a bottle of refined red wine and had begun her wait, seated in a wooden chair in front of the window. She liked wine: on her, the crisp liquid didn’t have the same devastating effects it had on humans and witches, but, when drank in copious amounts, it did have the power to make her feel light, as if her burdens were all gone – though only for a short-lived instant – and all that was left was the fruity aroma of fermented grapes. She’d already drank two half-full glasses when she noticed the Spellman Mortuary hearse dive into her driveway and park rather haphazardly in front of her house. Of course, Lilith thought, Zelda could only drive a vehicle as pretentious and as dramatic as herself. Hearing the woman’s heels climb up the small stairs leading up to her threshold, she predicted the witch’s following move and opened the door for her.

“Good evening, Ms. Spellman.” She said, half-drank chalice of wine still in hand.

“Good evening, Lilith.” Zelda replied. “I can’t believe the only way to reach this place is through a tight, untrodden road. Had I known that, I would have teleported myself here.”

“That is what I usually do, yes. Much quicker.” Lilith ignored the reproaching tone in the woman’s voice. “Please, come in.”

Zelda stepped inside and the heat immediately forced her to remove her fur coat: Lilith had lit a tiny stove in the corner of the living room, perhaps fearing that the witch would have found the temperature to be too cold, like that first day in her office. “Let me take that.” The demoness said, hanging the overcoat on the coat rack near the entrance.

“It’s… welcoming.” Zelda commented, exploring the room with curious eyes. “Mary Wardwell certainly knew how to decorate a room. Such a rustic style.”

“Yes, well, I haven’t touched anything since I… moved in, and I do like a break from infernal landscapes, every once in a while.” Lilith replied.

“Whatever happened to that poor teacher, anyway?”

Lilith knew Zelda was trying to avoid the true subject they were supposed to be discussing, but she couldn’t have blamed her. She chose to go along with it, at first, hoping to put the woman at ease. “Oh, nothing, really. I thought about resurrecting her and reacquiring my original form – mostly to please Sabrina, as I know she was one of her favorite professors – but I’ve grown rather fond of this mortal body and I don’t know if I could part with it, now.”

“Oh, well…”, Zelda answered, distractedly. “I imagine a… form like that must be hard to find, yes. I’ve always found Ms. Wardwell to be fine-looking. Such a pity she would always wear those ghastly, antediluvian clothes.”

Lilith wondered if the witch had realized she’d given her an unintentional compliment. “I agree. Thankfully, my choice of clothing appears to be diametrically opposite to hers.” She grinned. “Oh, that reminds me… I haven’t had the chance to give back the dress I borrowed from you. If you could wait a second, I’ll just—”

“Please, Lilith.” Zelda stopped her. “As I’ve told you multiple times by now, you can keep it. Hilda altered it and it would be ridiculous to remove all those modifications. I don’t even think it would be possible, really. And it suits you well.”

“Thank you.” The first woman replied, knowing there was no point in trying to argue. “Then, I believe we should probably talk about the main reason why you came here tonight.”

Lilith’s mouth felt suddenly dry, though it had no reason to: if Zelda had come to her, that meant she wanted her help, and Lilith was willing to give it to her, no matter what. She stared at the other woman for a second, resting her eyes on her outfit: she’d never seen Zelda wear an empire dress before, but the one she was wearing – black and dark green, with long sleeves and a wide skirt – fit her beautifully. The witch’s cheeks unexpectedly reddened: had she caught her staring? Did she even care, at that point? Did she _want_ her to?

“Yes, you’re quite right. I simply don’t know how to… how to broach the topic.” She replied, uncomfortably twisting the golden rings on her fingers. “This is ironic, actually, considering that I’m a midwife. I just can’t bring myself to… do it.”

“I understand.” Lilith comforted her, pointing at her sofa. “Shall we sit? I have wine, even if I don’t know… I mean, in your condition—”

“The laws of magical childbearing differ from human ones. I can drink wine, if that’s what you’re asking. And I would like a glass, thank you.”

After fetching another chalice from the cupboard and filling it with the crimson liquid, Lilith sat back on the couch, still far away from Zelda, but closer than they’d been the last time the two of them had sat on a sofa together. “I take it you are… certain of your state, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am.” Zelda cleared her throat. “I’d been having doubts since our… quarrel, at the Academy. I tried to ignore them, at first, but, as it turns out, one’s troubles do not simply go away when one makes an effort to forget about them.” She reflected, a grim smile appearing on her ruby lips. “I used the old pendulum spell to confirm my suspicions, and here I am.”

The witch seemed to pale after that last admission, as if confessing the truth out loud had drained her of every ounce of energy she had left. “I understand, Ms. Spellman. If you want to get rid of your problem, I can do it.” Lilith said, bluntly, tired of waiting and rendered bold by the wine. “I comprehend why you might not want to do it yourself, or ask your sister for help. I know all the herbs and tricks, if that’s what you want.”

“It is, yes.” Zelda whispered, not lifting her gaze from the Persian rug under her feet. “And yes, I… I can’t. I mean, I could… I would prefer if you did it. The brew, I mean.”

Lilith nodded sympathetically, as the Spellman matriarch took a small sip of wine from her glass and began to talk once again. “I would like to add… I don’t… I don’t want you to think I’m weak.” She muttered, appearing far less threatening than her usual self. Lilith’s insides churned as she witnessed the demolition of Zelda Spellman’s proverbial austerity and control with a single, half-whispered sentence.

“I don’t believe any of this makes you weak, Ms. Spellman.” She reassured her. “I believe it merely makes you a person. Which, I think, is a good thing to be. Occasionally.”

Lilith couldn’t tell if the pregnancy was making the stern witch particularly emotional, or if she simply hadn’t gained access to that side of Zelda Spellman before their last conversation at the Academy, but she was surprised when she saw tears quietly gathering behind the other woman’s eyes. Instinctively, she placed her hand on hers, which were gently folded on her lap, and forced a kind smile. “I have all the herbs I need in my— well, in Ms. Wardwell’s kitchen. It will only take about twenty minutes. You can wait here, if you want.”

As Zelda blurted out a soft word of thanks, wiping her eyes with a silk handkerchief, the first woman made her way to the gas stove in the kitchen. Methodically, she grabbed a mixture of eucalyptus, cotton root bark and mugwort from a collection of old ceramic jars she kept on the dusty kitchen counter and put the kettle on. Crushing the sharp-smelling combination of herbs into a bowl, she wondered if she should have warned Zelda about the strong aroma, thinking about her reaction when she’d smelled Sabrina’s magical potion mere days before. However, considering a very short amount of time had passed since she’d left the anxious witch alone, she decided it was better to finish preparing the brew first. She placed the aromatic powder into the boiling water and began to stir, not a single sound coming from the adjacent room. After pouring the liquid into a small cup, she went back to the living room, carefully carrying the overflowing mug as not to spill it, but Zelda was no longer on the couch, sipping her wine.

“Ms. Spellman?”, Lilith shouted, first calmly, then with increased worry. “Ms. Spellman?!”

Hearing no answer, she left the cup on the short tea table next to the sofa and frantically opened the front door: she was relieved to see the witch standing on her porch, her face turned towards the night sky, empty cigarette holder in her right hand. “Oh, Ms. Spellman.” She sighed, trying not to appear too worried in front of the other woman. “I thought you’d left. The brew is ready, if you want to—”

“I wanted to.” Zelda interrupted her. “I wanted to leave, I mean.” She added, then turned to Lilith with tear-streaked cheeks. “Oh, Lilith, I don’t even know what I want anymore.” She sobbed, her shoulders collapsing.

Lilith wasn’t quite sure what to do: on one hand, she was the almighty Queen of Hell, sovereign of all witches, mother of demons and mischievous spirits, and the Queen of Hell didn’t meddle with witching affairs, nor did she console crying redheaded women who did not even pray to her. On the other, hadn’t she already interfered enough? Was it even possible for her to back out, then? And if she’d decided to turn away, would she ever have been able to hold Zelda Spellman’s gaze again? The answers to her questions were, in order: yes, no, definitely no. And if what she was about to do was going to shift a certain balance of power between the two of them, so be it. Considering all her options, Lilith – perhaps for the first time in her many centuries of existence – chose kindness. Slowly, gracelessly, she walked up to Zelda and pulled her close to her, wrapping her arms around her trembling body. Surprisingly, the witch didn’t resist the first woman’s uncomfortable attempt at a hug – which, to be fair, felt exactly like an embrace from a superior being who hadn’t gently touched another life form in millennia – and squeezed back instead. They stood there for quite some time, silently holding each other, Zelda’s occasional sobs interrupted by Lilith’s habitual words of solace – ‘Do not worry’ and ‘It’s fine’, mostly, which were the same sounds her unsteady throat had produced that first day in her office, when all of it had begun.

“You don’t have to do it.” Lilith said, at last, reluctantly breaking the peaceful silence and their shy embrace, the smell of Zelda Spellman’s expensive perfume still lingering on her clothes. “You can still change your mind, if you want to. No one’s here to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. Not anymore, at least. You have a choice, Ms. Spellman.”

“Zelda.” The other woman said, fixing a wild lock of red hair that had fallen out of place, initially avoiding the Queen’s gaze. “At this point, Lilith, I think you should call me Zelda.”

At first, Lilith wondered if the other woman had been messing with her head all along; if that sudden act of intimacy hid a certain subtle mockery, a kind of ridicule Zelda was quite an expert in. However, the first woman couldn’t find a single hint of derision in the witch’s words and chose to see them for what they were: an attempt at closeness. Her mind had been so focused on consoling the crying woman that it hadn’t registered the emotions that had flown through Mary Wardwell’s body and Lilith’s own heart as the two of them had hugged: thinking about it then, the demoness could only describe it as electricity; a lightning falling right next to her, almost setting her aflame, without wholly burning her. She had almost hoped for it to be followed by thunder. She had wondered how that would have felt like, if it had.

“Zelda.” She said, the name feeling like honey in her mouth, like sugar and milk as it left her tongue. “If you want to keep your child, several people will help you. We can plan defensive strategies, dig a moat around your house and fill it with crocodiles and demonic creatures to keep you and the babe safe. We will make sure that Father Blackwood never comes back. _I_ will make sure of that.”

“That…”, Zelda said, her throat tightening. “That would be good. Yes, it would be good. But you must know that… I mean, even with your protection… I’m still quite scared, I fear.”

“As anyone would expect you to be.” Lilith reassured her. “This is no easy thing. None of it is, really: running the Academy, leading the Church, protecting your family. You do it all so flawlessly that one might forget that you are not free from hardships and pains.” The two women exchanged warm, fleeting looks. “Zelda, what I’m trying to say is that you don’t have to go through this alone. You won’t, if you trust others, and if you trust me.”

“I might try that.” The witch replied, one last tear trickling down her cheek. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. You worship me, after all. I’m merely answering a prayer.” Lilith joked, for she knew Zelda had never prayed to her – not out loud, at least. “Shall we go back inside? It’s getting quite cold, out here.”

“Well…”, Zelda stuttered, looking at her golden watch, buried under plenty of shining bracelets. “I should probably go. It’s getting late and I wouldn’t want Sabrina to use my tardiness as an excuse to miss her own curfew. Not that she listens to me that much these days, anyway. That girl is going to drive me insane, eventually.”

Lilith noticed how the witch’s face had lit up when she’d mentioned her niece: the two of them had, indeed, a complicated relationship, but it was clear how much Zelda cared about that child she’d raised as if she were her own. In that moment, the demoness knew that the woman in front of her would have treated her unborn babe with equal love and care. “That’s understandable. Knowing Sabrina, she would definitely consider that a useful loophole. I just… I would like you to contact me, if you need anything. Whenever, not only at the Academy. Call me, or… I mean, whatever witches do to get in touch with each other. I’m sure you’d find a way, if needed.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Again, I… I want…”, Zelda hesitated. “Thank you. Again. For everything.” She stammered, then disappeared into the night as Lilith watched her turn back into her regular diligent self, head high and regal posture, as if the world were constantly watching and judging her every single move.

After Zelda had left, Lilith went back into the cottage and was overcome by a sense of complete solitude as she looked at the two glass chalices standing on the tea table, still full. She considered the option of drinking the rest bottle by herself, but then realized she wanted to remain lucid. She poured the then-cold brew she’d prepared for Zelda down the drain and headed to her study – well, Mary Wardwell’s study, where all the textbooks on history and religion had been replaced by Unholy Scriptures and dark tomes only the most skilled warlocks dared to thumb through. Determined to keep her promise, she began to research the most efficient defense methods against all kinds of dark arts, hoping to find a way to give Zelda Spellman some well-deserved peace of mind.

Faustus Blackwood hadn’t been seen since the day he’d suddenly ran off during the night, abandoning the coven during one of its darkest hours, accompanied by no one but his twin infant children. The demoness had heard from several sources that Zelda had been fond of the little girl and she knew she’d even tried to save her from her wicked father, unsuccessfully. A knot formed in Lilith’s throat as she recognized that the witch had once again been separated from someone she’d loved – as if her husband turning into a prejudiced, bloodthirsty tyrant overnight hadn’t already been quite enough. She thought about Zelda’s life, and then her mind wandered back to her own sorrows: it was almost funny, Lilith thought, how suffering seemed to be a feminine prerogative. All the powerful men she knew, and all the ones she’d met throughout the course of her very long life, always seemed to win: somehow, those bastards kept getting the throne, the scepter, the glory. And what of the women? No matter how great, how capable she was, a woman’s rise to power was always hindered by pain, loss and torment. The mother of demons could only come to one conclusion: women, she thought, should be in charge of everything.

As she flipped through pages, her mind racing, free, between thoughts of control and injustice, she began to hear a familiar chorus of voices in her head: checking the time, she saw it had gotten rather late and she figured the Church of Lilith had already started to recite the usual evening prayers. Stepping away from the desk, she walked into Mary Wardwell’s featureless, austere bedroom and sat on the single bed, ready to listen to her subjects’ appeals. She could hear them all: not just the simultaneous, mechanical dozens of Hail Liliths, but the secret wishes the members of the coven held in their hearts. Hilda’s voice was there, of course, begging once again to be loved back by the tiresome bookshop owner, and so was Sabrina’s, asking for the strength to choose between two great loves, and Prudence’s, seeking comfort after her traitorous father’s escape, and Sister Mathilde’s, accepting, finally, that she had to cut back on the alcohol, and beseeching Lilith’s help to do so. At last, when all the other tones had already started to fade, a known, unexpected voice suddenly joined them.

“What the—”, Lilith couldn’t help but exclaim, scarcely believing her ears.

“Hail Lilith.” Zelda’s hoarse voice sent a shiver down Lilith’s spine. It was quiet, composed, not at all the angry, imposing kind of prayer the demoness had expected from her. “I hope you’re listening.” Zelda continued. “If you are, unholy Lilith, I ask for your protection. For me and for my family. For those already in this world and for those due to arrive. We are all waiting for a sign, Lilith. Send it to us. Pray for us sinners now and at the witching hour of our death. Praise Madam Satan.”

As Zelda’s husky tone slowly vanished from her mind, Lilith looked down, staring at her hands, stomach, knees, legs, and realized her whole body was shuddering, as hot tears wet her mortal features. Exhausted, trembling, she wanted to teleport herself to the Spellman mansion in that very moment, and find Zelda, and grab her by the shoulders and shake her and ask her what kind of sign, what token of loyalty, of love did the woman want from her. She wanted to know if she’d called upon her because her earlier promise of protection hadn’t been enough; if, perhaps, she did not think her word alone to be sufficient, and wanted to secure her request through prayer, like every other witch. Could she have blamed her, had that been the case? But Zelda was like no other witch – not at that point, at least. Instead of dramatically showing up at Ms. Spellman’s front door, Lilith chose to lie back on the bed instead, staring at the ceiling, drops of salty liquid flowing like rivers down her hollow cheeks. She fell asleep just like that, on Mary Wardwell’s uncomfortable mattress, her mind full of sorrow, her heart full of Zelda.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, everyone! This chapter is excessively dramatic and full of emotions because I’m a Capricorn and I use my writing to show people that I actually have a heart. I also spent yesterday evening rereading old chapters and noticed some mistakes: I’m too impulsive to have a beta reader, so if you see any grammatical errors or sentences that sound odd, feel free to warn me, either in the comments or via private message. Thank you and enjoy!

Springtime was slowly approaching: the days had gotten warmer and longer and everyone in Greendale seemed happier, somewhat lighter. The Queen of Hell, however, did not share that same sentiment and spent her mornings and afternoons lurking around the Academy, fulfilling the few tasks Zelda let her take care of without her supervision. They’d developed a sort of habit by then: the witch would leave a long note to Lilith’s secretary before the demoness’ arrival at the school, listing all her responsibilities for the day, and the first woman – after much grunting and whining, though never in front of the redhead – would do what told. More often than not, they were rather small tasks, to the point that Lilith wondered if Zelda truly needed help, or if she was merely trying to keep her occupied: redecorating the chapel’s central isle and choosing new silks for the drapes did not seem like such urgent jobs, yet Lilith dutifully did them anyway. Besides, to tell the truth, there wasn’t a lot to do in Hell for her and she preferred to spend time in the mortal world, where she could at least hope to catch a glimpse of Zelda Spellman’s swift figure as she walked towards the practice room, heels clicking down the Academy’s marble floors.

They hadn’t talked much since that evening at Lilith’s cottage and almost two weeks had passed since their last conversation about Zelda’s state: the first woman wondered if the witch had already regretted confiding her problems to her and if she thought it possible to undo everything that had happened over the past month purely by ignoring her. Lilith hadn’t expected a friendship to immediately blossom between the two of them, but she had hoped that Zelda would have done more than barely acknowledge her existence, waving shyly at her when they crossed paths in the hallways, not even meeting her eye.

By the end of the second week, Lilith had almost accepted the fact that Zelda was never going to contact her again: the mother of demons had been helpful, indeed, and she’d solemnly sworn to protect her and her unborn child, but certain matters were to be taken care of with the help of family and friends – two categories that did not include her.

One evening, as she was fixing herself a cup of blueberry tea – for she had grown fond of the flavor after drinking it with Zelda Spellman in a time that then felt very distant – she heard the telephone ring. Surprised, as no one had ever called her – called Ms. Wardwell, to be precise – before, she ran into the dimly-lit living room and picked up the phone.

“Yes? Hello? Lili— Madam Sat—”, she cursed under her breath, not sure what to say. Was she supposed to pretend to be Mary Wardwell? Why, of course she was! Who could have been calling the Queen of Hell? How did one even politely answer the phone, anyway? She’d never bothered to find out such frivolous details of mortal behavior. In the end, she settled on impersonating the woman whose body she’d stolen. “This is Mary. Who’s speaking?”

“It’s me, Zelda.” Lilith could tell a playful grin had formed on the witch’s face when she’d heard her pretend to be the deceased schoolmarm.

“Oh, Zelda! Why… I mean, I wasn’t expecting a call from you. Is everything alright?”, she asked, both pleasantly thrilled and, to some extent, worried.

“Yes, it is, thank you. I’m calling because I need another favor from you.” Zelda replied, her usual low tone betraying no emotions. “You said I could call… I mean, if I needed anything. If this is a bad time, I could just—”

“No, please!”, Lilith interrupted her, perhaps too enthusiastically. “I don’t get many calls here anyway, as you could probably tell.”

“Right, I figured.” Zelda’s remark was followed by a short instant of silence. Lilith was considering whether to ask the other woman if she was still there, but then the redhead spoke. “I haven’t told my family about… my condition, yet. I’m not scared of doing it on my own, but I thought… I thought, maybe, if you could come too, and tell them you promised me your protection… I think they would take it better. If you would…”, she paused for another brief moment. “Actually, this thing sounds unbelievably stupid now that I’ve said it out loud. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called—”

“No, Zelda, it’s not stupid at all.” Pronouncing the woman’s first name was something the demoness was still unfamiliar with, but it did not feel uncomfortable. “I think it’s very clever. I don’t doubt your family members will do everything in their power to protect you, but I also believe they would feel more at ease if they knew that I am on your side, too.”

“Would you really do it?”, Zelda asked, sounding skeptical.

“Yes, I would. I really am trying to keep my promises, Zelda.” She reassured her, once again enjoying the taste of the witch’s name in her mouth. “Should I just… step by, after you’ve told them? Whenever you’d like, of course.”

“Actually…”, the woman replied, hesitant. Lilith could hear the insecurity in her unusually vacillating voice. “I was wondering… I don’t know if I should be asking you to do this, really, since you don’t have much to do with this absolute mess of a situation—”

“It’s too late to rethink my position in this whole thing, I’m afraid. Just tell me.” Lilith commanded her, but her tone wasn’t harsh, as if she were talking to one of her infernal minions: it had merely been a suggestion, a word of encouragement.

“You’re quite right, yes. I wondered if you could be with me for the… announcement. I thought I could prepare dinner for the family – well, I would ask Hilda to fix something up, as I truly am no gifted cook – and then tell them. I would feel more… relaxed, I imagine, if I were there with someone who was already aware of my condition. That someone being you, clearly.”

Those last few words rushed out of Zelda’s mouth so quickly that Lilith’s brain barely trapped them all, like newly-caught fish trying to flop out of an old net. Stunned by the redhead’s request, the demoness couldn’t think of an immediate answer: mere minutes before she’d come to the conclusion that Zelda had most likely forgotten about her, only for the witch to phone her right after to ask her to be present at some sort of weird, awkward pregnancy announcement, for reasons Lilith could only categorize as moral support. The demoness could not deny that she felt rather honored by the request, to the point that an imperceptible smirk had appeared on her lipstick-stained lips.

“Lilith, are you still there?”, Zelda asked, bringing her back to reality.

“Yes, sorry.” Lilith replied, realizing she’d been silent for quite some time by then. “Yes, I could do that. This is a peculiar demand, but I’ve promised you my assistance, and assist you I will.”

“Great. Good. This is good.” The other woman stuttered: had she been expecting Lilith to say no? It was a fairly absurd favor to ask, but Lilith couldn’t have imagined _not_ doing something like that for Zelda. Sure, it was possibly going to be unpleasant, but the mother of demons had been through worse things than a tense family dinner, followed by a four-hundred-year-old witch announcing an unexpected pregnancy from a man who’d turned out to be a vicious criminal. “What date would be convenient for you?”

“Oh, it’s the same, really. I’ll clear my schedule for you.” Lilith teased, hoping a little joke would ease tension.

“Of course, I’m sure our Queen must be unbelievably busy.” Zelda teased back, sounding as if a weight had been lifted from her. “Would tomorrow night work for you? Is that too soon?”

Lilith had expected to have at least a couple of days to prepare for the inglorious dinner, but there was no point in waiting, and, besides, Zelda would not have been able to hide her secret for much longer: if her clothes already fit her too tightly a fortnight earlier, it was only a matter of weeks before suspicions were going to arise about her state. “It would work perfectly.” She answered.

“Good. Thank you. You’ve been very kind to me.” Zelda replied. Another pause followed, as neither one of the two knew what else to add to the conversation. “Great, yes. I’ll see you tomorrow night, then. Hilda usually serves dinner at eight in the evening, but we could change that, if you’d like.”

“Eight sounds wonderful. I will… see you there, then. Tomorrow night. Eight o’clock.”

“Yes, thank you. I… Goodbye, Lilith.” The witch said, at last.

“Goodbye, Zelda.” Lilith muttered, but the woman had already hung up.

Staring mindlessly at the phone in her hand, Lilith wondered what the Heaven had just happened and why had she agreed to take part in that confused scheme. “This is absolutely going to be dreadful.” She whispered to herself, making her way back to the kitchen. The blueberry tea she’d left on the countertop had become too cold to be drinkable and, after pouring it down the sink, she put another kettle of water on.

* * *

The following day was a Sunday, which meant no classes were to be held at the Academy. That also meant Lilith hadn’t gotten the chance to see Zelda wandering around the school’s cold corridors in the morning, but, as the witch hadn’t contacted her to tell her otherwise, the demoness assumed their plan was still in place and she started to get ready at six in the evening. After spending a great amount of time complaining to herself about not having anything decent to wear and fifteen more minutes cursing Mary Wardwell’s horrible taste, she settled on a somewhat revealing knee-length dress the spinster had probably never worn in her life, accompanied by a leather jacket and a touch of red lipstick. She knew she didn’t _have_ to look good – she was just visiting the Spellmans, after all – but she’d always liked to feel beautiful, and, perhaps, she did want Zelda Spellman to think she was, too. Finally ready, she grabbed a bottle of expensive whiskey – the redhead witch’s drink of choice, or so she’d been told – and headed out the door, not sure what to expect.

Once again, she decided to take the car, mostly because it was the slowest means of transportation at her disposal: she was terribly early and she knew that showing up ahead of schedule at a party one had been invited to wasn’t a polite thing to do. However, she could no longer stand to roam around her tiny cottage, looking for chores to do to pass the time, which was why she’d chosen to risk seeming slightly bad-mannered. Arriving at the Spellman mansion about ten minutes before eight, she rang the doorbell and waited on the patio, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“Good evening, Lilith!”, Ambrose opened the door, bowing a little when he saw her. The gesture had been so natural and elegant that Lilith hadn’t even minded it. “Come in!”

The first woman gladly accepted the invitation and stepped inside. “Aunties, Lilith’s here!”, Ambrose shouted, face turned towards the kitchen. “It was very kind of you to accept our invitation.” He then said, addressing Lilith. “Auntie Zee only told us last night that you’d be coming, so forgive us if our house looks a tad bit chaotic right now. Sabrina and I are always up to something, making life-threatening experiments and such.”

“Oh, do not worry.” Lilith grinned at the half-joke. Looking around, the demoness couldn’t see a single speck of dust, and she guessed that Hilda had probably began to furiously clean the entire residence the second Zelda had told her their Queen was to join them for dinner.

“Follow me!”, Ambrose added, leading her to a large room next to the kitchen: the Spellmans’ dining room was quite the sight, with tall scarlet walls covered in still life paintings that looked rather posh and ancient family heirlooms. The table had been set for five, which meant she would have been the only outsider dining with the Spellman clan. A feeling dangerously close to anxiety started to pool deep in her stomach: what in the name of Satan – or, even better, in the name of _herself_ – was she even doing there?

Zelda Spellman’s theatrical appearance sliced right through that line of thinking and left her in awe, gaping like a child in front of a jar of sweets: the woman, wearing a simple blue evening gown, red hair twisted up into an elegant chignon, had emerged from the kitchen as Venus had from the froth of the sea. Though Zelda’s dress was anything but elaborate, Lilith couldn’t help feeling underdressed, somewhat out of place.

“Hello, Lilith.” The witch said, smiling faintly. Since when did they greet each other like that? Though, given the circumstances and everything that was bound to happen, an informal greeting from Zelda Spellman was the least strange thing in the whole world in that very moment. “Dinner’s almost ready. You could sit next to me, if you’d like.”

“Absolutely.” The demoness replied, not even trying to mask her eagerness. She handed the whiskey to Zelda, who thanked her with another slight smile, only to disappear again in the other room. She came back a few instants later, followed by Hilda, carrying plates full to the brim with delicious food. As the rich dishes were being set on the table, Lilith realized she’d never taken part in a so-called family dinner before: mainly because she wasn’t used to eating dinner – male flesh and unruly children most likely didn’t count, she thought – but also because she’d never had a family of her own to dine with. The mood was exceptionally warm, she considered, hearing Sabrina and Ambrose plot mischievous deeds and occasionally answering Hilda’s questions about her plans for the Church, her life as supreme ruler of Hell and similar inquiries.

About an hour later, after Hilda’s mention of dessert, Lilith began to shoot Zelda inquisitive glances, but the witch had barely looked in her general direction all evening, despite being seated right next to her. The dinner hadn’t been as uncomfortable as Lilith had predicted, for Hilda, Sabrina and Ambrose had tried to include her in their conversations as much as they’d been able to, but she’d been somewhat disappointed by Zelda’s lack of interest in her. She almost wanted to reproach her for her coldness, but she was close to finding the key to Zelda Spellman’s mind and she could tell that, behind her icy appearance, the redhead was growing increasingly unstable.

Hilda had noticed her sister’s weird temperament as well. After disappearing into the kitchen one last time and reemerging with a huge chocolate cake, the witch leaned in close to the older woman and gently asked her if she was feeling alright, trying not to be overheard by their other companions.

“I’m fine, sister.” Zelda answered, feigning annoyance, as she started to cut the cake. “Oh, this looks delicious, doesn’t it? Great job, Hilda!”

An unexpected silence fell on the room: Hilda, who’d baked many cakes in the hundreds of years the Spellman sisters had spent together, had never heard Zelda compliment her on her cooking abilities. Stunned, she cleared her throat. “Thank… Thank you, Zelds. Are you… Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”, she asked, as Ambrose and Sabrina also turned their heads towards their redheaded aunt.

“Yes, I’m perfectly fine. I’m excellent!”, Zelda exclaimed, irritated. Her gaze met Lilith’s, whose cobalt eyes were desperately trying to tell her to keep her composure. If she wanted to tell her family about her situation, there was no point in doing so while livid and regretful.

“Being angry won’t help.” Lilith whispered, imperceptibly.

Instead of screaming at her to be quiet and mind her own business, Zelda unexpectedly grabbed Lilith’s left hand under the table, clutching it tightly. Lilith, who’d noticed that the witch had begun to take long, deep breaths to control her temper, poured fresh water into her own glass – for Zelda’s had been filled with white wine for the entire duration of their dinner – and offered it to her. The woman gulped it down quickly, as the rest of the family observed that odd exchange, not understanding what in the name of all incubuses was going on between the two women.

Zelda, Lilith thought, was most likely considering eating her cake as nothing unusual had happened and postpone the announcement to a later date, but the demoness’ encouraging gaze seemed to have given her the force she needed to get through the last part of that bizarre feast. After serving dessert to the rest of her guests – she wanted to be a good hostess, no matter what – and noticing the curious expressions on their stunned faces, she swallowed and spoke once again. “Oh, for Heaven’s sake!”, she cried out, letting go of Lilith’s hand.

“Zelds?”, Hilda mumbled, her eyes tight and worried.

“I’m fine.” She tried to say, but the words got stuck in her throat and a great sob came out instead. What an absolute fool she’d been – thinking she could survive that whole ordeal without bursting into tears, like some feeble, pathetic weakling! As a dark serpent born from ugly, destructive thoughts started to wrap itself around her heart, Zelda felt a familiar hand rub soothing circles against the small of her back. Looking up, she saw that Lilith had drawn her chair closer to hers and was caressing her, trying to calm her down.

“I told you this wouldn’t be easy.” She said, quietly, so that no one but Zelda herself could hear her. “It doesn’t mean you can’t do it, though.”

“Yes.” The witch replied, her voice trembling. “Yes. Thank you.” She repeated, suddenly looking away from the first woman: Lilith assumed she’d avoided her gaze as a quick way of scolding her for overstepping. Little did she know, her gesture had moved Zelda so deeply that she wouldn’t have been able to stare at the other woman without tears resuming their slow descent down her rosy cheeks, and had felt the need to look away.

“Zelda! Please, Zelda, tell me what’s wrong. You can tell me anything, Zelds. Please…”, Hilda implored, reaching her sister’s side and kneeling next to her chair: Lilith noticed that tears were collecting behind the younger witch’s eyes as well and she wondered if she was going to be the only person in the room not entirely bawling by the end of that night.

“Auntie?”, Ambrose said, his breath rapid as he exchanged a concerned glance with an open-mouthed Sabrina.

“I really am fine.” The witch managed to say, holding Hilda’s forearm with her left hand and Lilith’s cold fingers with her right one, as the mother of demons kept gently stroking her back. “I’m just… I am…”, she swallowed again, though her mouth felt awfully dry.

“I don’t want to impose, but what if we moved to that beautiful living room of yours? As I recall, it is very spacious and it might be good to give Ms. Spellman some air.” Lilith hadn’t dared to pronounce Zelda’s first name in front of her sister, niece and nephew, perhaps afraid that they would have seen it as an imposition of some sort. She hoped Zelda hadn’t noticed.

“Okay… Okay, yes, that would be good.” Hilda murmured, still confused.

As she got up from her chair, Zelda found herself delicately leaning against Lilith for support, even if her own puzzled sister was right by her side. The demoness’ cheeks reddened as she felt the witch grasping her arm and soon came to the conclusion that supporting Zelda Spellman’s weight didn’t feel like a burden at all.

Once they’d reached the Spellmans’ sitting room, as Lilith was about to sit in a comfortable-looking armchair by the fireplace, Zelda, who had already collapsed on the couch next to Hilda, gestured to the first woman to take a seat next to her. “Please.” She begged, and that sudden display of frailty shot an arrow through Lilith’s heart. They sat next to each other, thighs and calves slightly touching – Zelda’s covered by the light fabric of her dress, Lilith’s sheltered only by Mary Wardwell’s silky tights. Hilda, Ambrose and Sabrina were staring at Zelda, apprehensively, but nobody dared to speak before she did.

“I think it’s time.” Lilith whispered to her, almost apologetically, as if the witch’s sorrows were somehow her fault. Maybe, deep inside, she felt like some of them were.

“I know.” The woman replied in a soft tone, smiling bitterly.

“Zelds—”, Hilda tried to intervene, but she was cut off by Zelda herself.

“I’m sorry.” She said, trembling. Lilith instinctively put a hand on her thigh, soothingly, but Zelda did not react: she either hadn’t noticed, Lilith considered, or the gesture hadn’t made her too unhappy, in spite of everything. She secretly hoped for the second option to be true. “I’m sorry.” Zelda continued, repeating herself. “I haven’t been… well, lately. I mean, I am well now, but…”

“Oh, Zelda, just tell us, please!”, Hilda exclaimed, her voice cracking. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together, as a family. Like we’ve always done. I promise you. But please, just tell—”

“Fine, fine!”, the older sister yelled, but there was no anger in the way she pronounced the words. “I’m…”, she began to say, then stopped again. Lilith softly massaged her thigh and her earlier second hypothesis was confirmed when the witch unexpectedly held her hand and squeezed back. The Queen of Hell felt a peculiar sensation in the depths of her belly – which, as she later learned, finding it rather amusing, mortals usually referred to as ‘butterflies’.

“I’m pregnant.” Zelda announced, at last, Lilith’s touch giving her her ancient, stoic strength back.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out, it can be hard to focus on writing during a pandemic! Who would have thought? Jokes aside, it took me a while to write this chapter and I haven’t started working on the next one yet, so forgive me if I won’t be able to keep updating weekly. I’ll try my best and maybe my ability to concentrate will come back, who knows! In the meantime, a little warning for the following part of this story: there will be A LOT of alcohol involved. Not only in the writing of it, but also in the chapter itself (and, as stated in the previous chapters, Zelda can safely drink, because I want her to). Enjoy!

“Pregnant?!”, Sabrina yelled, tactless as ever.

“Well, this is certainly unexpected.” Ambrose whispered to himself: though he’d been trying to conceal it, the announcement had clearly taken a load off his mind, as he’d begun to worry about his aunt’s unusual behavior.

“Oh, Zelda!”, Hilda exclaimed, her voice high and shaky. “Zelda, I thought you were ill! I thought you were dying, Zelda! Is this really it? This is fine. This is nothing—”

“Do not say this is nothing, Hilda.” The woman replied, slowly freeing Lilith’s hand from her grip. “This is… a lot. It won’t be easy. I have thought about other options and I have come to the conclusion that I want to keep... this.” She added, gesturing at her own stomach. “And Lilith has promised to protect me. To protect us all. This is why I invited her here, tonight.”

“You knew? All this time?”, Hilda asked, turning her distressed face towards the demoness.

Sensing the younger witch’s pain, realizing she’d been hurt by the fact that Zelda had chosen to reveal such a private secret to their Queen before she’d even talked to her own sister, Lilith tried to smooth things over, making it seem as if Zelda’s faith in her had been no great deal – even if, deep within, Lilith herself felt like it had. “I’ve only known for a day or two.” It was untrue, but Zelda didn’t protest and the first woman assumed she was giving her her implicit blessing to alter the narrative. “Zel— Ms. Spellman came to me, asking for help. I swore I would do everything I could to keep her and the rest of her family safe. I stand by that promise.”

“I needed to know everyone would be out of harm’s way, sister.” Zelda spoke again, looking at Hilda. “With Faustus on the run and all the events of the past months, I couldn’t—”

“I understand, Zelds.” Hilda interrupted her. “I am surprised, of course. I would have never expected this, not in a million years! And we have so many things to do, now! We’ll need to make sure that everything’s alright with the babe, first of all. Then, I’m thinking we could use Sabrina’s old nursery for—”, the lively witch stopped blabbering when she noticed she’d begun to get off track. Zelda was looking stiff, tapping her fingers on her arm: her sister’s excitement had made her nervous again. “I’m sorry. We’ll have plenty of time to sort things out. I’m happy you told us.” She sighed, smiling tenderly at the redhead.

“I’m glad I found the courage to.” Her sister replied, a faint curve appearing on her own lips.

“Is it… Blackwood’s?”, Sabrina inquired, bluntly. The short silence that followed put everyone on edge: it was a question Lilith hadn’t dared to ask, but she’d wondered about it as well, back when she’d first learned about Zelda’s state. Everything would have been easier if the child hadn’t been his, but the mother of demons doubted that rigorous, stern Zelda Spellman would have been capable of cheating on her lawfully wedded husband.

“Not that it is any of your business, Sabrina, but yes, it is.” The witch’s snide reply confirmed Lilith’s suspicions and the thought of the violent warlock resurfacing to claim rights over the babe worried her: up until then, the whole situation had merely been hypothetical, but Zelda’s confession had made everything appear more urgent and real.

“Right, sorry.” Sabrina apologized, realizing how indiscreet her query had been. “Aunt Hilda is right, though. The four of us will stand by your side.” She added, grinning at Lilith, who, though she would have preferred to die a slow, painful death rather than admit it, was touched by the fact that, according to the young witch, she, too, was part of Zelda Spellman’s official support circle.

“Well, this has been an eventful night, hasn’t it? I propose we all drink a big cup of chamomile and go to bed. We’ll think about the rest tomorrow.” Hilda suggested, giving her sister’s arm an affectionate squeeze. “Sabrina, Ambrose, would you help me clear the table? We’ll do the dishes in the morning.”

“Let me help.” Lilith said, getting up.

“I would like to have a word with you, actually.” Zelda stopped her, hand brushing against her forearm. “I don’t think I will be going to bed soon, sister. Don’t wait up for me.” She added, looking in Hilda’s direction.

“Alright, dear. Have a good night.” Hilda replied, making her way upstairs, shortly followed by her nephew and niece.

Zelda and Lilith were alone in the Spellmans’ living room, a comfortable calm surrounding them. The redheaded witch – her face once again dry and firm – asked Lilith to wait as she walked into the kitchen to grab the whiskey the demoness had brought and came back with two crystal glasses. Not saying a word, Zelda filled the Queen’s glass first, then her own. Picking it up, she finally spoke. “I’d like to make a toast.” She said, looking into the other woman’s light eyes. “To you. To thank you. For everything.”

“I didn’t do much, but you’re welcome.” Lilith replied, lifting her own glass and gulping the dry liquid down: she’d never tried that specific sort of alcohol before and, by her second glass, she noticed that the liquor was starting to affect her, though it was not turning down the volume of her thoughts like red wine usually did. Whiskey burned her throat and made her insides feel warm, but she didn’t hate the sensation.

Zelda was drinking as well, as she’d been doing throughout the course of the entire dinner: despite being seemingly used to it, the witch appeared to be rather inebriated, yet Lilith did not mind that new, somewhat unrestrained version of her. “I was not expecting you to actually come to my aid, at first.” Zelda said, swirling the whiskey in her glass, looking pleased. “I’m not used to having the Queen of Hell over for dinner. I hope all this power won’t go to my head.”

“Oh, I would never let it, do not worry.” Lilith teased, moving closer to the woman: the smell of her perfume was masked by the sour aroma of alcohol, but it wasn’t unpleasant. “And you have power of your own, now.”

“I do, yes.” The witch nodded, but her expression turned somber. She poured herself another glass, hands a little unsteady. “I have to admit, though, I don’t know how the coven will react once they find out about… all of this. I wonder if they’ll still want me to be in charge. Now that I’m carrying Blackwood’s heir, I mean.” Her face grimaced at her own mention of her former lover’s name.

“Oh, Zelda.” Lilith exclaimed. “I consider you to be an exceptionally smart woman, but some of the things you say make me second-guess myself, at times.”

“Pardon me?”, Zelda replied, perplexed.

“You know very well that blood alone does not define a person. Look at your own niece! I know from personal experience that she can be a massive troublemaker, but being Lucifer’s own daughter has not made her a bad person.” Lilith considered. “And I believe you and your sister might have had something to do with that.”

Zelda smiled, a single tear lining her cheek. “Oh, please, I really have to ask you not to start crying again. I try my best, but I’m not very good at comforting people.” The demoness joked, hoping not to sound too unkind.

Instead of punching her square in the mouth – a gesture Lilith would have expected from the old Zelda, the one who had barely been able to stand her and did everything in her power to avoid her as much as possible – and insulting her to no end, a roar of genuine laughter left Zelda’s body. Maybe the reaction had been helped by the copious amounts of wine and whiskey the witch had consumed, but the demoness didn’t care: the woman’s laughter had sounded loud and throaty, and yet Lilith thought it to be the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard, and she wondered why in Heaven did the woman keep it so well-hidden. Echoing through the mansion, Zelda’s expression of delight pierced the smoky air – for she had lit several cigarettes by then, though the nicotine no longer agreed with her and she could barely take a single drag before furrowing her brow, unable to stand the smell.

“If it means anything to you, I still appreciated your attempts.” She commented, once her own laughter had subsided. “And it’s not like I enjoy being comforted, either. I would say we’re even.”

“Oh, please, I think you _love_ it!”, Lilith teased.

“I don’t!”, Zelda screamed, chuckling and spilling whiskey all over the sofa.

“Please, everyone does! If I’ve learned anything from my stay in this world, it’s that humans and witches are fundamentally masochistic creatures. You don’t wish for pain, of course, but when you suffer, you wallow in despair a bit longer – not much, obviously, just long enough for someone to notice and come to your rescue.” Lilith explained, not lifting her gaze from the other woman’s inquisitive, intoxicated expression. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, but you are not immune to it. The desire for rescue, I mean.”

“You might be right.” Zelda admitted, gradually shifting closer to the demoness. The distance between the two of them was so small that Lilith could notice all the little things about the witch’s appearance: the way her scarce freckles were hidden under a layer of pale foundation, perhaps too light for her complexion; her red lips, rendered dry by the alcohol, but still inviting and warm; her bright eyes, green like tender grass at the beginning of spring, cool like forest moss. Every single detail about the woman’s face and body and soul made Lilith feel as though there were a fire in her belly, burning fast, consuming her whole, without mercy.

As Zelda grabbed the bottle of liquor to pour herself another glass, Lilith tried to stop her. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough of that? You won’t be feeling too well in the morning.”

“A small price to pay.” Zelda grinned, theatrically lifting her tumbler. “In any case, you can’t control me.”

“I can make suggestions, though.” Lilith replied, admittedly amused by the witch’s unwinded behavior.

“And I can choose not to listen to them.” The Spellman matriarch said, smirking. Lilith, also on her umpteenth drink, tried to rise up – had it been up to her, she would have never left that house, but it was getting late and she did not wish to disturb the rest of the sleeping clan with her drunken shenanigans – but sat back down when she felt the ground rocking beneath her. The motion made Zelda laugh, hiccup, then laugh again, until her ribs hurt and Lilith’s heart felt full.

“Oh, look at us.” She said, placing her hand on the first woman’s. “Getting drunk like unruly teenagers. What would the other teachers at the Academy think of us? And the students?”

“Truthfully, I think most of them would join us.” Lilith replied, causing Zelda’s shoulders to shake in silent laughter, in a failed attempt not to wake her resting family.

“Once again, our Queen speaks the truth.” She smiled, and a full, almost familiar warmth rushed through Lilith.

Without warning, the redhead got up, stumbled for a while, but didn’t fall. “Let’s dance!”, she said, turning on an old gramophone placed on a small table in a corner of the room, immediately turning down the volume as she realized that the damned thing was too loud. Lilith couldn’t recognize the song, but it didn’t matter: a drunk Zelda Spellman had asked her to dance and she could scarcely believe it.

“No, I couldn’t—”, she tried to refuse the invitation, but Zelda had already dragged her up from the couch, obstinate.

“Please!”, she begged. “I’m always looking after people, at home and at the Academy. I can’t remember the last time I got to have some fun. Just one dance, and it doesn’t even have to be a good one. Just one.”

Lilith didn’t even bother trying to say no a second time and they began to dance, awkwardly, in the middle of the Spellmans’ sitting room. It was precisely as clumsy and as amusing to watch as any attempt at a dance between two inebriated people had ever been, and the two women secretly enjoyed every second of it. First standing far apart, then growing steadily closer, until Lilith could smell the sweetness and the liquor on Zelda’s breath, the witch and the demoness twirled around the room, till Lilith could no longer tell if the world was spinning because of the alcohol, the dancing or the fluttering feeling in her chest. Wrapping their arms around each other’s shoulders, they began to move about like overexcited schoolchildren, their foreheads touching.

“Thank you.” Zelda whispered, out of breath, and Lilith wanted to say something, anything, but her mind was blank and every sound she wanted to make died in her throat, unable to escape her mouth, which she kept tightly closed, as she feared her own heart would jump out of it if she didn’t. It would have been so easy for Lilith to kiss her right then, to touch her red-tinted lips with her own, smelling like spirits and sweat: but Zelda had drunk too much, and the demoness herself was more than just tipsy, and the alcohol wasn’t making her feel brave or audacious, just weak and heartbroken. Besides, that whole evening had been coated with kind words and gentle exchanges – all things Lilith didn’t know much about, to the point that they made her feel uncomfortable, sore, not because they were sharp, but because it was rather hard for people to seek good and tenderness when they’d been born and raised among nothing but greed and loathing.

“You know, for an evil being, I must say you’re rather fascinating.” Zelda said, not breaking their embrace. “I’ve tangled with my fair share of demons, but I never thought I’d become acquainted with their progenitress.” She almost couldn’t finish the sentence, caught in another fit of laughter.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Lilith managed to say, but her entire body was trembling and she felt anything but bold. How did Zelda do it? How did she manage to remain charming and daring even when drunk out of her mind?

“Yes, you look quite striking.” The witch added, not even acknowledging Lilith’s reply.

“Thank you. And you look quite drunk.” The first woman said, unable to take her eyes off her.

“Oh, Satan in Hell.” Zelda exclaimed, at last, stepping away from the other woman. “I wish I didn’t have to face Hilda tonight. Imagine discovering your sister is pregnant and hearing her come to bed strongly inebriated, all in the span of a few hours.” She complained, stumbling forward and grabbing the edge of a nearby desk for support.

“I take it Sabrina is no longer the black sheep of the family.” Lilith joked, trying to compose herself, yet beginning to feel queasy. “I have a spare bedroom, if you’d like to postpone your walk of shame.” She proposed, but felt like a fool as soon as the words had left her tongue: had she truly asked Zelda Spellman to spend the night at her place? She’d meant it in a wholly platonic way, of course, but there was no doubt the witch was going to take it as an indecent proposition and kick her out of her property within seconds.

Instead, Zelda seemed to consider the offer. “My family does complain frequently about the way I seem to _suffocate_ them.” She reflected, putting emphasis on the word ‘suffocate’, her speech slightly slurred. “They might even appreciate me spending a night away from home. Plus, I don’t think I can handle Hilda. Not right now, at least. She’ll want to make plans, and talk about babes, and all that midwifery stuff…”, she trailed off, making a silly vomiting gesture that almost made Lilith snort.

“The offer stands.” The demoness pointed out, not sure what to hope for: did she _want_ Zelda Spellman to sleep over at her house? Did _Zelda_ want to? The witch obviously wasn’t sober enough to make rational decisions, but nothing was going to happen between the two of them – except for an intense hangover in the morning, most likely – and, besides, Lilith was positively sick of falling asleep alone in that solitary cottage in the forest.

“Oh, for Hell’s sake, why not?!”, the redhead yelled, raising both arms in a melodramatic gesture. “As long as you have some more wine.”

“I do, in fact, but I doubt you should keep drinking.”

“We’ll see about that.” Zelda sneered, already headed for the door.

“Wait!”, Lilith shouted, trying to keep up with her. On her way out, she grabbed one of Zelda’s fur overcoats from the clothes rack in the foyer – she didn’t want the woman to catch a cold, too, in addition to inevitable alcohol-induced headache – and her own leather jacket.

“Shall we take the hearse? Or would you prefer to drive your own car?”, Zelda asked, shivering in the early spring night air.

“Oh, we really shouldn’t be driving right now. We could get in my car and I’ll teleport us there.” Lilith smiled, delighted and mildly alarmed by the witch’s recklessness.

“No, actually, leave the car here.” Zelda pleaded, unexpectedly. “Leave it here, so that you have an excuse to come back.”

Staring into the depths of Zelda’s emerald eyes, the first woman desperately wanted to tell her that no such excuse was desired for Lilith to go back to her; that she would have been there the minute Zelda had asked her to, no explanation necessary, no car left behind needed. But that would have required some courage, and Lilith, in that very instant, had none. Instead, the corners of her mouth twitched feebly and, after a quick snap of her fingers, the two women were standing right in front of her small house – Mary Wardwell’s car included, as Lilith assumed Hilda wouldn’t have been too happy about finding it blocking her driveway the following morning. Immediately, the demoness felt an eerie sensation that made her hair stand up on the back of her neck, as if she were being watched: once she’d quickly looked around and found no intruders on her property, she chose to believe that the whiskey was making her paranoid and decided that the redheaded witch walking towards her front door on unsteady legs was, in that moment, her first priority.

She turned the key in the lock and let Zelda in first, watching as she clumsily headed towards the sofa, laying on it with uncharacteristic ease. Amused, Lilith opened the small cabinet near the stove where she kept her best wines, but Zelda gestured at her to stop.

“No.” She said, lifting herself up from the couch. “After much pondering, I have come to the conclusion that it may be better if my alcohol intake for the night does not increase.”

“That is very wise of you, Ms. Spellman.” Lilith replied, teasingly referring to Zelda as she once used to. “If you’d like to go to bed, I can show you the way. It is late, after all, and we’re both supposed to be at the Academy tomorrow.” Instantly, Lilith remembered that the spare bedroom she’d mentioned earlier was, in fact, no more than a storage room where a dusty bed and a prehistoric table lamp had been placed. Ashamed of the state of her shack, she led Zelda to her own bedroom: she was going to sleep on the sofa, as not to disturb her.

“Lilith, isn’t this your room?”, Zelda asked. Lilith had hoped that, in her fogged state, the witch wouldn’t have noticed. “Didn’t you say you had a spare bedroom? I would have never come here, had I known—”

“I do, yes.” Lilith lied. “You’ll sleep better here. It’s more comfortable.”

“Please, you don’t have to treat me with kid gloves just because I am with child!”

“I’m not, I swear!”, the mother of demons defended herself, not wanting to anger the inebriated woman in front of her. “I’m not doing it because of your state. I guess I’m simply the best host in Greendale.”

Zelda smirked. “I’m accepting this arrangement solely because I need a comfortable mattress and complete silence after a night of debauchery. Do you happen to have a nightgown I could borrow? I’ll have Hilda clean it as soon as possible.”

Lilith dived into her poor closet and reemerged with a nightdress she’d purchased at Greendale’s only clothing shop: she could stand to wear some of Mary Wardwell’s clothes during the day, but she drew the line at Victorian pyjamas and bedgowns that went all the way to one’s ankles. “No need to put your sister to work, Zelda. My infernal minions do my laundry, anyway. Oh, also…”, she said, handing the gown to the witch. “I still have this. I should have given it back sooner, but I kept forgetting.” She added, returning the green bow Hilda had lent her the night of the Solstice Ball, which had belonged to Zelda’s mother.

Zelda picked it up, softly, as if touch alone could have broken it: after twirling it between her fingers, observing it as if it were some religious artifact, she placed it on Lilith’s night table. “Keep it. I wasn’t too fond of the old hag, and it looked more beautiful on your neck than it did on hers, anyway.”

The demoness’ blood rushed to her cheeks at the compliment and she looked away, not wanting the witch to notice. When she saw that Zelda was beginning to remove her jewelry, she realized that it was time for her to go. She whispered a quick goodbye and made it all the way to the living room without staggering too much, only to walk right back into her bedroom when she heard Zelda call to her.

“Lilith.” Her voice was hearse, words still garbled. “This was… good. Wasn’t it good? I think it was good.”

“Yes.” Lilith replied, kindly, yet she felt as though someone had placed a large rock on her chest. She _knew_ nothing was going to happen between her and the other witch that night: what was she waiting for, exactly? What was she _hoping_ for? Foolish, imprudent woman: she should have known better than to slowly, hopelessly fall for someone like Zelda Spellman. She should have known better than to call it love. “It was good.”

The moment she’d reached the couch – not without some serious balance difficulties – she realized she’d forgotten to choose a nightgown for herself, but she could hear a faint wheezing coming from the room Zelda had already fallen asleep in and she would have rather slept on a bed of nails than to wake the redheaded woman. Tired, intoxicated, lovesick, she fell into deep slumber as her head touched one of Mary Wardwell’s decorative pillows, but not before her brain had birthed one last, heartwarming thought: Zelda Spellman, despite being rigorous and punctilious while awake, was a careless drunk, a terrible dancer and a loud snorer.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back with another chapter, earlier than I’d anticipated! I’m trying out this new writing technique that’s basically just me posting a new part as soon as I’m done writing it and hoping my brain will understand that I need to start working on the next one soon. It will probably backfire and I will hate it, but don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, right? As always, I hope everyone’s safe at home and staying sane during lockdown. Enjoy!

Lilith was roused by the sound of birds chirping loudly, hidden in the tall trees that surrounded her cottage: in her drunken state, she’d forgotten to close the shutters the previous night and the timid light of a new day had waken her up early. Except, it was not that early at all: glancing at the small clock near the stove, she saw that it was ten in the morning, already. Why hadn’t Zelda warned her? The witch had probably seen her sound asleep on the couch and had chosen to take pity on her, leaving the house without making a sound. Groggily, Lilith stood up and realized that her shape was far better than what she’d expected: the whiskey had been strong, but her demonic nature was stronger, and she was merely experiencing a light headache.

Stumbling towards the bathroom, convinced that Zelda was going to make her pay for her unjustified absence from the Academy, she suddenly heard faint noises coming from the room. At first, the dreadful feeling of being watched came over her, just like it had the previous night. However, after a few seconds, a new possibility entered her mind: what if Zelda _hadn’t_ left?

“Zelda?”, she asked, clearing her throat. “Zelda? Are you in there?”

“One moment, please.” A muffled reply came from the other side of the door, followed by the sound of the toilet flushing. An instant later, a rather unkempt version of Zelda Spellman came out of the bathroom, hair no longer twisted up into a neat chignon, her face paler than ever. “Morning sickness and hangover symptoms do not mix well, I’m afraid.” She added with a pained expression, wrapping the nightgown Lilith had lent her tightly around herself.

Lilith became abruptly aware of her own physical state: still wearing the dress she’d fallen asleep in, her make-up smudged and her hair a tangled mess, she felt uncomfortable in front of Zelda, who, despite the fact that she’d apparently been sick minutes before, still looked quite regal. “I’m sorry.” She said, hoping the witch wasn’t paying much attention to her appearance. “I thought you’d left, actually. We should have been at the Academy hours ago.”

“Since when do you care about punctuality? Oh, the tables have turned!”, Zelda snickered, rubbing her temples. “I trust they will be able to survive without our constant vigilance for a single morning. Besides, I couldn’t deal with the students in this state. I can hardly stand them when I’m in perfect health.”

Lilith grinned. “If you don’t plan on leaving without warning as you usually tend to do, we could have breakfast together.” She proposed, barely able to contain her excitement at the thought of sharing such an ordinary experience with the witch.

“I don’t know.” Zelda replied, squinting. “I’m not really presentable. I should clean myself up, at least.”

“I do have a bathtub. Well, Mary Wardwell did. I usually get ready with a snap of my fingers, but I understand why a tub full of warm water may sound tempting to you, right now.” Lilith offered, hopeful.

The redhead closed her eyes and Lilith thought she’d heard an imperceptible moan leave her lips at the mention of a relaxing bath – though it might have simply been her own imagination. “Oh, why not!”, the witch exclaimed, at last. “I deserve a vacation day, don’t I? If you don’t mind, I’ll take a well-earned, quiet bath. It’s been ages since I last took a decent one without Ambrose using all the hot water, or Sabrina interrupting me by accidentally conjuring some evil spirit in our foyer.” Her complaints hid a hint of laughter. “One time, Salem was chasing some kind of bug and he jumped right into the tub. I screamed so loudly that Hilda thought I was being murdered.”

“It sounds like you absolutely deserve this, then. Take all the time you need.” Lilith smiled. “The towels and soaps haven’t been touched since I came here, if you’d like to use them. I’ll get started on breakfast.”

Zelda nodded, disappearing into the bathroom. As she made her way back to the kitchen, feeling flushed, the mother of demons tried her best not to think about the redheaded woman undressing mere meters away from her. Realizing that she was still wearing the previous night’s clothes, she changed her appearance with a swift wave of her hand and sighed with relief as she spotted her own reflection on the glass cabinet doors: her chestnut hair was once again neatly combed and her elegant green robe fit her perfectly, enhancing her features. She grew embarrassed remembering that Zelda had seen her before she’d managed to fix her appearance and hoped for the old mental image to soon be replaced with that new version of her. It didn’t occur to her that, just as she’d found the witch to be exceptionally beautiful even in her disheveled condition, Zelda had, perhaps, thought the same about Lilith, too.

Focusing on her task, she began to frenetically open cupboards and scan shelves, looking for healthy ingredients with which to cook a delicious breakfast for the woman that was, in that very moment, lying naked in her bathtub. Swatting away the thought as if it were an irritating fly, she found a pre-made pancake mix hidden behind cluttered jars of spices: seeing that it had not expired yet, Lilith prayed for Zelda Spellman to have a sweet tooth, because half-burnt pancakes covered in orange marmalade were the only food she could have possibly cooked without burning the entire cottage down. Following the instructions written on the back of the bottle, the demoness managed to prepare a high stack of pancakes, which she proceeded to drown in sweet, yellowish jam. Getting a whiff of her cooking experiment’s syrupy aroma, she came to the conclusion that it was acceptable enough, and that she wasn’t going to give Zelda Spellman food poisoning that morning. Most likely.

As she was taking a handful of colorful teabags out of a cabinet, she heard a familiar voice coming from behind her. “Lucifer in Hell, Lilith! I understand that I should be eating for two, but this could feed an entire army.”

Turning around, ready to confess that she had little sense of the amount of food that witches and mortals were supposed to consume on a daily basis, she was so struck by Zelda’s loveliness that she couldn’t utter a single word: the witch had put her blue evening gown back on and the contrast between the elegant dress and her bare face made her look even more striking. Stunned, Lilith could do nothing but stare at the woman standing in front of her, gazing at the golden sun that shone on her ginger locks, asking herself if all those Christian scriptures hid a shred of truth behind them and if, maybe, there was a Heaven, after all. If there were one, she wondered if she’d just reached it.

“Lilith, are you alright?”, Zelda’s tone startled her out of her reverie.

“Yes, sorry.” She muttered, recomposing herself. “I will be honest with you, Ms. Spellman: cooking is not my strongest suit and I might have gone overboard with the portions.”

“I noticed, yes.” Zelda replied, the corners of her mouth twitching. “You’ll have no choice but to join me, I fear. There’s no way in Heaven I could ever consume all of this by myself.”

Lilith had never eaten anything for breakfast in her numerous millennia of existence and she wasn’t sure she would have enjoyed the taste of sugary pancakes and pungent orange marmalade, but, not having the heart to confess that to Zelda, she put a kettle of water on and sat at the table with her. “Is tea alright? Would you prefer coffee?”, she asked.

“Tea is fine, thank you. I’ve been loathing the smell of coffee, lately. Hilda would say it has something to do with the pregnancy, but I think the universe is simply conspiring against me.” The witch replied, dramatically biting into a pancake slice. She chewed slowly, savoring the taste, until a satisfied look appeared on her face. “This is not bad at all, I’m impressed! Here, try it.” She added, cutting another small slice and sliding the plate towards Lilith.

Half-convinced that Zelda had only complimented her out of kindness, the demoness took a small bite out of her culinary attempt: it was sweet and bitter at the same time – likely due to the type of jam she’d chosen to sprinkle the pancakes with – and she certainly couldn’t have said she’d loved it, but Zelda had liked it, and that was enough for her. With a pained expression, she nodded. “It’s… edible.” She said, unable to mask her mild disgust.

Zelda puffed, resuming to eat. “You might be too used to mortal flesh to be able to wholly savor our humble food.” She sneered, spreading more jam on her breakfast. “Satan in Hell, I will miss this when Hilda inevitably puts me on a strict healthy diet!”

“You could always sneak out and come here, if you’d like. I would make sure to have whatever food you might be craving ready for you. Although it would be better if my servants cooked for us, next time. If you want there to be a next time, of course.” Lilith proposed, pouring the hot water from the kettle into two mugs and handing Zelda a teabag. “Would blueberry tea work?”

“Yes, thank you.” Zelda replied, pensive. “We could ask Hilda to teach us. I mean, give us some cooking lessons. Well, teach _me_. And you, if you’d like. I’m not insinuating that you have to learn, obviously. You have your minions, but I can’t always rely on my sister for help. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that you _need_ to know how to cook, in order to—”

“It’s fine, Zelda. I understood what you meant. It’s a very kind offer.” It took Lilith every ounce of willpower she had not to burst into laughter: not only had Zelda suggested they both learned how to bake bread and make muffins like perfect housewives, but she’d done so in a clumsy way, implying that her Queen’s cooking skills were not that great after all. Yet, the imagine of Hilda teaching them how to cook, kitchen tools scattered all over the Spellmans’ house, the two of them standing in front of a scalding oven on a sunny afternoon, waiting for a tasty vanilla cake to be ready, filled her heart with longing. Zelda’s suggestion had sounded silly, Lilith admitted to herself, but it had also felt like something dangerously close to intimacy.

“I’ve been spending a lot of time in the mortal realm, anyway. I should learn how to cook properly, at some point.” Lilith said, hoping the witch would realize that her proposal had not offended her. “I’m guessing Hilda does most things around the house, does she not?”

“Yes, I must admit I’m not of great help. It’s just…”, Zelda seemed lost in thought. “After our parents’ passing, Hilda took on the role of nurturer in the family. She was always naturally selfless and thoughtful, with both Edward and I. And then Ambrose and Sabrina came along and she just kept on… caring. I don’t know how she does it, to be quite honest. The whole motherly act.”

“It’s no act, I think. It might just be who she is.” Lilith explained, surprised that the witch had chosen to share such an intimate consideration with her. “Most humans and witches are protective and affectionate when it comes to their loved ones, but some display it… differently. I’ve seen you with Sabrina and I know you care very much for her, beyond your tough exterior.”

A statement such as that would have angered the old Zelda Spellman to no end, but the one standing in Lilith’s kitchen on that lovely spring day seemed to appreciate the observation. “She will always be my first babe. I remember the day we found her on our doorstep, so tiny and helpless! Hilda started running around the house in utter confusion, but I just picked her up and looked into those lovely blue eyes…”, Zelda’s bottom lip began to quiver, but there was no trace of sadness in her expression – only warmth. “Did you know that most newborns are born with light eyes? Hilda and I secretly hoped hers would turn out to be green, like ours, but, as months flew by, they became darker and darker. One day, as I was looking through old family pictures, it finally hit me: our girl had Edward’s eyes.”

Unsure what to reply, Lilith nodded. The love Zelda felt towards her family was a sentiment Lilith had never experienced, and she began to wonder if she ever could have: to care about someone so deeply, to need other people in order to feel full, at peace – that was something that could have easily ended in hurt, and Lilith didn’t like even the slightest possibility of damage. If she’d had to decide between the risk of being broken and forgotten and the usual, somewhat comforting loneliness, the demoness wasn’t sure what her choice would have been.

Setting her gaze on Zelda’s face, illuminated by the quiet morning sun, she noticed that a bitter smile had appeared on her lips. “I love her as a daughter, mischievous schemes and all.” Zelda continued, unaware of Lilith’s private reflections upon affection and devotion. “I don’t… I don’t know if I could care for someone else the same way.”

Puzzled, Lilith could not understand Zelda’s statement at first, but when the redhead brought a hand to her own stomach, she realized that she was talking about her unborn child. What words of comfort could Lilith have summoned for her? She, who had never borne babes of her own – and certainly did not love demons and other creatures as if she’d carried them in her womb? “It wouldn’t have to be the same type of love.” She said, at last. “There are many kinds of it, all of them good. I envy you, really, because you’re capable of so much loving.”

Zelda did not utter a word for a long time after that, to the point that Lilith wondered if she’d said something that had hurt her. Eventually, pressing her lips together, she locked eyes with the demoness and sighed. “Why are you so kind to me, Lilith?”

Taken aback, the mother of demons licked her lips. “I’m not being particularly nice, Zelda. You’re my High Priestess and I suppose we should try to get along, that’s all.”

“I don’t believe you.” Zelda challenged her, crossing her arms.

Attempting to think of a reply that could have satisfied the witch, Lilith’s eyes stupidly wandered to Zelda’s abdomen and, before looking away, she noticed that a soft bump had begun to make its appearance under the woman’s clothes. How far along was she, anyway? She’d never asked her that before, but it would have been useful to know, especially if the witch wanted Lilith to plan defense strategies and such. Perhaps she could have diverted the conversation by discussing those excessively private matters with the Spellman matriarch.

With horror, Lilith saw that Zelda had caught her staring. “Oh, I see.” She said, and Lilith perceived a hint of disappointment in her tone. “That’s the only reason, then.”

“Excuse me? I don’t think I understand.”

“You don’t need to lie to me. I appreciate your concern, even if it’s merely because I am with child.” She explained, somberly. “I don’t blame you, truly. Our coven is rather small and each new member is a great blessing. The fact that this will also be Blackwood’s babe possibly makes things more interesting for you, does it not? Yes, we should expect it to be quite gifted in the magical arts.”

“What?”, Lilith exclaimed, genuine bewilderment overcoming her. “I’m not… What?”, she couldn’t help but stare at the other woman with wide eyes, unable to process the words that had just left Zelda’s mouth. “Are you insinuating I only care for you because of… power? That I’m protecting you and your babe because I want… him, or her… or it, as you seem to refer to the _child_ that you’re carrying! You think that I’m protecting them because they will join the coven, eventually? Because they might be a bit more powerful than the rest?”

Zelda leaned forward, raising her eyebrows. “I’m…”, she stuttered. “I’m not saying that’s the sole reason, of course. But I thought it might have something to do with it. Forgive me if I find it hard to believe that the mighty Queen of Hell would ever meddle with the affairs of a common subject with no ulterior motives.”

“Are you mocking me, Zelda?”, Lilith cried out, her voice suddenly high-pitched. “If you truly believe that the great powers your heir may or may not have inherited are the _only_ reason why I’ve been standing by your side all this time, how come I offered you my help with the abortifacient brew? Why did I thoroughly clean that damned chimney in my office the night you were sick, long before I even began to have suspicions about your state?”, her heart was beating so quickly that she feared it would leap out of her chest, but Lilith kept talking. “If I care only about power and myself, why was I present at that nerve-racking pregnancy announcement of yours, Ms. Spellman? Why did I invite you here, last night, so that you wouldn’t have to face your sister? If I’m selfish and cruel, why have I cooked you breakfast? Why have I brought you tea?”

Lilith noticed that Zelda’s breath had grown rapid and her eyes had become wet, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Do you know how many people I’ve purchased teabags of flavors I did not even know existed for? Not a lot of them, trust me. In fact, that list would contain just your name.” The words left her mouth in a shout. “I want to be very clear about this, Ms. Spellman: I don’t like this change in me. I am the Queen of Hell, ruler of hundreds, feared by thousands! I kill men with thought alone and I am capable of the darkest kinds of magic. I am eternal.” She swallowed, even if her mouth felt awfully dry. “Do you know… Do you have any idea of how ashamed I feel when I close my eyes at night, lying in this awful, lonely cottage, and hear the darkness whisper your name?”

She stood up, clenching her jaw. “I’ve never needed anyone, Zelda. I did not think I was capable of frailty or want, but that was before I knew how much a single person could hold.”

“Lilith…”, Zelda whispered, bringing a hand to her mouth to suppress a sob, but Lilith kept speaking.

“I don’t ask anything of you and I want you to comprehend that. I understand why you would think me a self-centered and greedy creature, and perhaps I am, quite often.” She paused, taking in a deep breath. “But not this time. Not with you. If you need me, I want you to know that I have no agenda, no secret plan to exploit you and your child. If you can’t believe that, well… I’ll have to ask you not to need me, then.”

Lilith exhaled. Zelda, face still wet, got up from her chair without warning and moved towards her, her chin high despite her trembling hands and distressed expression. She inched closer, slowly, as if she were afraid to startle some wild creature, until Lilith could feel the heat of her breath against her own skin. Looking into Lilith’s cobalt eyes, Zelda Spellman uttered three simple words, so softly that the demoness barely caught them. “I need you.”

Before her Queen could react, Zelda had already stepped away from her, grabbed the coat Lilith had thoughtfully brought there for her the previous night and walked out of the house, slamming the door behind her. As soon as the witch had left, the demoness once again felt as if she were being watched by some invisible entity, but her cottage was empty and nobody was spying on her from its dirty windows. Unable to control herself, she was overcome by unexpected anger – a kind of rage she had not felt in a very long time: suddenly, she grabbed the plate Zelda had eaten from, bits of pancakes still scattered on its surface, and violently threw it on the floor. An inhuman scream left her body as she crouched down, holding her knees in a childlike manner, too focused on her own pain to realize that she, too, had begun to weep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to have regained my ability to write and concentrate for more than three consecutive seconds, so here’s another chapter! As always, I would like to thank you all so much for your kind comments. They never fail to make my entire day. Hope you’ll like this new part!

Over the course of the following days, the roles Lilith and Zelda usually played in their confused, agitated relationship seemed to have been reversed: the first woman was neither subtly looking for the witch everywhere she went, nor hoping to casually bump into her in the crowded corridors of the Academy of Unseen Arts. On the other hand, Zelda had tried multiple times to approach the demoness, but the other woman had managed to invent the least convincing excuses to avoid her: she’d simply been too occupied researching old, powerful spells in ancient tomes, giving orders to her hellish servants or choosing which festivities once celebrated by the Church of Night to keep and which ones to get rid of to talk to the redheaded woman, even if just for a brief instant.

The pain that had blossomed in Lilith’s chest after that awful breakfast at her cottage hadn’t decreased: the mother of demons had faced sorrows far greater than pathetic accusations of egoism and avarice made by arrogant, ungrateful witches, yet she could not stop picturing the look in Zelda’s eyes as the woman had accused her of only caring about her own personal gain. A pang of guilt shot through her each time she thought about it: above all, the transparent disappointment on the witch’s face had cut right through Lilith’s heart, forcing her to recognize that Zelda had meant every single word she’d said. No matter how hard Lilith had tried to help her, to stand, compassionately, by her side, the witch still had doubts: Zelda Spellman didn’t fully trust her and that notion tortured her.

In addition to that, the frightful sensation of being followed hadn’t left her since the night of Zelda’s announcement and she’d been growing more worried with every passing day: in the past, she’d been able to find out about enemies planning attacks on her thanks to Stolas’ uninterrupted vigilance, but her familiar was long dead and she didn’t trust her infernal minions enough to ask for their help. After all, they’d been loyal to Lucifer for centuries and she desperately wanted to prevent another coup d’état, for she knew how effective those rebellions could be. Instead of consulting other demonic creatures, or even merely confessing her suspicions to someone – the Spellman clan, for example – she chose to deal with it on her own, never letting her guard down, but still unable to figure out who in the name of all incubuses had been spying on her for days. Of course, she wasn’t certain that she was actually being watched, either: perhaps she was slowly slipping into insanity and, truth be told, the idea of finally going mad and being able to forget all about Zelda and her family did not sound terribly unpleasant.

Her surprise was great when, walking through the doors of the school on a particularly cloudy morning, she spotted Hilda Spellman as she frantically hurried towards her. Trying to mask her curiosity, she waved politely and greeted her. “Good morning, Ms. Spellman. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh, Lilith!”, she exclaimed, panting a little. “I’m very sorry to disturb you.”

“Not at all.” Lilith replied, giving the witch some time to catch her breath. Lifting her gaze, she noticed that the main hall was completely empty, which was bizarre, considering it was eight in the morning and, by that time, students were generally bolting around the Academy, running to their first classes of the day. “Do you happen to know why it’s so quiet in here?”, she asked, absentmindedly.

“I do, unfortunately.” Hilda replied, her breathing more stable. “It’s the reason why I stopped you so abruptly. Zelda called a meeting in the auditorium earlier and the students and professors are all there.” She paused again, wringing her hands. “Last night, during dinner, Sabrina told her that there were rumors going around about her… condition. I think she wants to announce her pregnancy, but I doubt that doing so during an assembly would be the best course of action. She’s not exactly well-liked and—”

“That’s a terrible plan.” Lilith interrupted her, furrowing her brow. “Half of this damned coven detests her and her hostility towards all the other teachers doesn’t help. Why didn’t she come to me? She can’t do whatever she pleases and whine when things get ugly!”

“I know.” Hilda, visibly upset, didn’t even try to defend her sister. “Sabrina figured out what she wanted to do as soon as she called everyone into the auditorium and summoned me right away. Trust me, as much as I would like to teach my sister a valuable lesson, I don’t think this is the best time for that. Would you come with me?”

Lilith sighed, once again disappointed by Zelda’s impulsive nature and by her insistence on not consulting her before making such appalling decisions. “Certainly, but I don’t see how that would help. If she wants to make a fool of herself in front of the entire Academy, I can’t prevent her from doing so.”

“We could stand in a corner and make sure things don’t get out of hand.” Hilda pleaded. “I’m concerned for Zelda, but I’m even more worried about the possibility of her setting a student on fire, turning Sister Mathilde into a salamander or doing something equally bad.”

“That’s a fair point, Ms. Spellman. I’ll come with you.” Lilith groaned, suppressing the need to roll her eyes until they fell out of her skull.

Rapidly, the two women strolled towards the room where the dreadful council was about to take place. As they were getting closer, Lilith began to hear the well-known noise of students idly chatting, followed by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Her stomach cramped when she realized that Zelda had been the one to produce it and she cursed herself for the time she’d wasted talking to Hilda in the foyer, which she could have used to stop the redheaded witch from starting the meeting. Resigned, she entered the auditorium, hoping for Zelda to be too preoccupied with her announcement to notice her, and leaned against a wall in the back of the room. A few familiar faces turned towards her and nodded in reverence – Sabrina’s was one of them – but they spun around when their High Priestess began to speak.

“Thank you all for coming.” She said, her voice raspier than usual. Soft murmurs started to arise among the crowd, but they ended right after Zelda’s brief pause. “You might be wondering why I gathered you here, interrupting your daily activities. For that, I apologize, but I assure you this will only take a few minutes of your time.” If she was nervous, Lilith thought, she was hiding it exceedingly well. “I have been informed that rumors have been spread about me, recently. I don’t know the full extent of said claims and I don’t wish to, but, as High Priestess, I believe it is my duty to be as sincere as possible with all of you.”

A chorus of whispers arose again, louder. Lilith saw, with great displeasure, that several professors were talking between themselves, shooting accusing glances at the Spellman matriarch. “Quiet, please!”, Zelda said. The noise grew weaker, but did not stop completely. “As I was saying, I consider honesty to be an essential virtue. However, I believe that my personal life and all affairs regarding me and my own family should remain private, within reason.” In that instant, the redhead locked eyes with the demoness and seemed to be taken aback. The shock – if she’d even experienced any – only lasted a mere second and she immediately looked away from the first woman, back into the murmuring crowd.

“We don’t have all day, Mother Spellman.” A voice rose from the audience: it had come from one of the older faculty members, a goblin-looking man whose name Lilith genuinely couldn’t remember, nor did she particularly care to know. The one thing she wanted to do was to release a pack of hellhounds in the room and let them take care of all the infuriating, whispering people who were clearly speaking ill of Zelda Spellman.

“You’re right, Brother Cecil.” Zelda replied through gritted teeth. She was twisting the rings on her fingers and Lilith knew it was no good sign, but her face remained composed. “In spite of my beliefs concerning privacy and, more generally, people quietly minding their own business, I must admit that, on occasion, some personal matters need to be disclosed. Which is why, in order to prevent any further _gossiping_ , I have chosen to announce to you all that I am with child.”

The auditorium was suddenly filled with gasps, choking sounds and some fits of laughter, albeit barely audible. Zelda’s cheeks grew pink, but she maintained her calm and poise. “This will be, of course, Blackwood’s child as well, but I assure you that I have had no contact with my former husband since the day of his escape and I don’t plan on doing so. In fact, with the help of our Queen, I’ve been thinking of ways to make the Academy a safer place for all of us, in case he ever returns.” Lilith’s lips involuntarily twitched when the woman referred to the ghastly High Priest as her ‘former husband’, skimming over the fact that Zelda had told a blatant lie, for they hadn’t discussed defense strategies at all.

“You sure have got a nerve, Zelda.” A woman in the front row spoke, but Lilith, from her partly-hidden position, couldn’t see who it had been. “How can we trust you, now that you’re forever linked to Blackwood?”

“Sister Gertrude is right, Mother Spellman.” Another one intervened. “We need a leader whom we can blindly trust. Your state puts you in quite a difficult position, I’m afraid.”

“How could you, Zelda?”, one more voice rose from the crowd, one Lilith recognized: Prudence had stood up from her seat, her fists clenched at her sides, and she was staring at Zelda with a gaze full of hatred. Lilith knew Prudence was Blackwood’s daughter, too, and, ever since her marriage to the evil warlock, Zelda had taken her under her protection. “After everything he’s done to us and all the wickedness he’s caused, how could you—”

“Prudence.” Zelda interrupted her, stern. “This isn’t something I can… undo. I’m not here to discuss my individual choices, as I’ve already said—”

“He tortured us!”, Prudence shouted, trembling. “He mistreated us. He put you under a spell, for Satan’s sake!”, Lilith saw the muscles in Zelda’s face tense at once and, before she could fully realize it, her legs had started to move towards the stage. Numerous confused witches and warlocks watched her as she made her way to the platform, Prudence’s voice still loud in the background. “You want us to trust you, but how can we? You seem to have formed an alliance of sorts with our Queen, but how do we know that you still have our best interests in mind? We’ve been betrayed by our leaders and idols once before, Zelda. What’s preventing you from doing exactly that?”

“That’s enough, Prudence.” Lilith spoke, at last, reaching Zelda’s side. The witch was staring straight ahead, unable to focus on the humming audience, and the demoness knew she was a single confrontational remark away from breaking down: though still hurt herself, Lilith wanted to spare Zelda the humiliation of bursting into tears in front of the entire coven and thus resumed her speech. “Silence, please.”

At her request, students and professors suddenly quieted down – whether it had been out of fear or respect, Lilith couldn’t tell. “We’ve all suffered great losses over the past few months. All of you have gone through changes most humans and magical creatures couldn’t survive – but you’re still here.” She paused, waiting for her words to sink in. “You are survivors. Survivors who are still living in terror, afraid that your old enemies might come back. I can’t promise you they won’t, but I can swear to you that, should they try to do so, I will do everything in my power to fight against them. And so will Zelda.”

She shot a glance at her High Priestess, but her gaze was fixed on the floor in front of her. “Perfection is no mortal quality and I reckon every single one of you would be, in the right circumstances, capable of disloyalty. The only person who makes me doubt of such statement is standing right next to me.” Once again, her eyes wandered to Zelda, who finally looked back at her, with an expression the demoness couldn’t quite decipher: was it gratitude? Shame? Pride? Possibly a mixture of all three, Lilith thought. “No other individual in this very room could lead the Church of Lilith as well as she does, nor could they ever display the same amount of devotion that Zelda Spellman has shown to her deities over the centuries. That she has shown to _me_.”

Lilith heard Zelda sigh, but she couldn’t divert her gaze from the people in front of her, who had started to subtly nod and exchange words of approval among themselves. “All I ask of you is to remember that I’m no Lucifer and that your High Priestess is no Father Blackwood. If we work together, we will be able to get through anything, but we cannot do so if we stand alone.” She concluded, stepping away from the podium. “Let us not stand alone.”

As swiftly as she’d arrived, the mother of demons left the room, quickly walking in the direction of her office. Her speech should have filled her with satisfaction, for she’d been able to control the madding crowd and reason with her subjects. And yet, the ache in her chest hadn’t left her – it had only increased: once more, she’d put herself on the line for the woman who was the very cause of all her troubles, without getting a single word of thanks as a meagre consolation prize. Ignoring her secretary, who was dutifully sitting at her desk outside her office, she stormed inside and slammed the door behind her, collapsing on the couch.

As she was looking outside the window, wondering whether it would have been wiser to go back to Hell until a theoretical threat arose, a sharp pounding at the door interrupted her considerations. Convinced that she would have found her secretary’s concerned face on the other side of it, she opened it with slight annoyance, only to be met by Zelda Spellman’s faintly red face and sparkling green eyes. Taking a step back to let the witch in, she wanted to ask her what the Heaven she was doing there, but Zelda was quicker.

“Did you mean it?”

“What?”, Lilith asked, perplexed.

“What you said. All the things that you said. That great speech on loyalty.” She explained, almost irritated, as if Lilith were supposed to instantly know every single thought that crossed her mind. “On how you trust me.”

“I thought I’d made that clear, Ms. Spellman.” Lilith answered, equally annoyed – if not more. “I often lie, but not when it comes to you.”

“Good.” Zelda said, pressing her lips together.

“Oh, really?”, Lilith snapped, appalled by the witch’s behavior. “That’s all you have to say? ‘Good’? I defended you in front of the entire Church of Lilith, praising you to the skies, and your only comment on the full ordeal is ‘good’?”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” Zelda blurted out.

“I am well aware of that, _Ms. Spellman_. You never ask for anything, but I do it anyway, don’t I?”

“Oh, quit calling me that just because you’re angry with me!”, Zelda roared.

The demoness noticed the veins in the witch’s neck had begun to throb. Deep inside, she knew the rational thing to do was to let her wind down, address her calmly and maybe even ask for her forgiveness. But, Lilith considered, hadn’t she done that quite enough times already? And what did _she_ have to apologize for, anyway? The woman in front of her had done nothing but hurt her, over and over, consciously or not, and, perhaps, Lilith should have wanted to wound her, too, to make her feel as desperate and lost as she was – but she didn’t. The mother of demons thought that the burning feeling in her chest was making her weak and stupid, without realizing that love was, in fact, only making her kind.

“I’m sorry.” She sighed, relaxing. “That was… childish. I’m sorry, Zelda.”

“I accept your apology.” The other woman relented, straightening her posture. “I’m… I’m sorry, too. I didn’t know how to… I didn’t…”

“You didn’t know how to thank me?”

“Yes.” Zelda admitted.

“Try not to yell at me, next time. That would be a start.” Lilith mumbled, clenching her jaw. “I told you I don’t expect anything from you, but asking you not to attack me each time I do something nice for you really sounds like the bare minimum.”

“That’s understandable.” Zelda said, avoiding eye contact. “I didn’t mean to burst into your office like a madwoman. I wasn’t expecting to see you at the assembly, let alone hear you speak in my defense.”

“If you’d shared your concerns with me before orchestrating the whole thing by yourself, maybe we could have come up with something better. _Together_.” The demoness complained, her tone reproachful. She’d come to Zelda’s aid, but she wasn’t about to let her get off scot-free. “Hilda caught me in the main hall earlier and told me about your little scheme. I hope you understand that this whole thing could have gone very badly for you.”

“I was managing the situation the best I could.”

“Evidently.” Lilith sneered. “I suppose being on the verge of tears as Prudence Blackwood openly accused you of sleeping with a traitor was also part of your well-thought-out plan, then?”

“Oh, forgive me, but it’s been rather hard for me to contact you, lately.” Zelda spat. “According to your secretary, you’ve been impossibly busy this past week.”

“Don’t you think I might have had my reasons to avoid you? If you’d truly wanted to have a conversation about this, you would have found a way. You always do.”

Zelda produced no answer and Lilith regretted her outburst right away: from the mortified look on the witch’s face, it seemed as though she’d already learned her lesson. Taking in a deep breath, she closed the distance between them, until their bodies almost touched. “Don’t forget that you lied to them, too.” A puzzled expression appeared on the other woman’s features. “We haven’t planned any kind of tactic to defend the coven. We should get started on it, if you want us to be done by the time…”, she paused, keeping her eyes from wandering to the redhead’s stomach. “Well, as soon as possible.”

Zelda appeared to have recovered some of her strength, for her voice was steady when she spoke. “That is true, but I don’t think we should be doing any of that during academic hours.” As she said so, she shot a brisk glance at the old grandfather clock in a corner of the room. “Not now, anyway. I need to find Prudence and try to talk some sense into her. And I’m sure you have… tasks, as well. Come to my house, tomorrow night.”

“Oh.” Lilith hadn’t expected another invitation to the Spellman residence – especially not after the spiteful tone she’d used while talking to Zelda mere seconds before. What was the deal with that woman? Did she _enjoy_ fighting with her? Was it some type of perverse fascination of hers? Naturally, the demoness kept those judgments to herself. “That would work, yes. I don’t see why not.”

“Great. I’ll have to ask you to come after dinner, I’m afraid.” Zelda added, as Lilith attempted to hide her disappointment. “I don’t want the rest of my family to snoop into our business. Well, _my_ business. But, since you’ll be there… I mean, it’s _ours_ if—”

“I understand, Zelda.” Lilith took a wicked kind of pleasure in seeing the witch get flustered, unable to explain herself, for the second time in the span of a few days. It felt good to be reminded that Zelda, too, was a person. “I could be there at nine o’clock, if that’s fine with you. Should I bring wine?”

“Oh, no.” The redhead said, shaking her head. “I’m still recovering from our last evening of excesses. Besides, I believe we should be sober for this. Bring something else, if you’d like.”

“Like what?”, Lilith asked, as the witch stepped away from her.

“Surprise me.” Zelda replied with a faint smirk, disappearing out of the door.

Lilith’s blood rushed to her head, the woman’s mischievous smile burned into her mind: her morning had started with Hilda Spellman warning her of the witch’s imprudent actions and it had ended with an invite to Zelda’s house, as if nothing at all had happened. Clearly, they were merely going to discuss defense plans and Lilith had nothing to expect but a great dose of Zelda Spellman’s proverbial perfectionism, with a side of derisive comments. Yet, the demoness couldn’t stop thinking about that last grin and the words that had accompanied it: _"Surprise me”_. What in the name of Satan was she going to get her?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi and welcome back! I’m posting another chapter only five days after the last update because I won’t be able to be online much this week and, since I finished writing this one yesterday morning, I thought I might as well share it. The slow burn continues, but (hopefully) not for much longer. Thank you all for your support, enjoy!

Lilith’s position as Satan’s concubine had forced her to do countless things she had come to regret: much blood was on her hands, for she’d killed far more men than she could count, and seduction and treachery had always been her weapons of choice. Despite all the terrible deeds that weighed on her conscience, not a single one of them had ever embarrassed her as much as having to walk into Cerberus Books – the only occult bookshop in Greendale – to purchase a stack of tomes on pregnancy and childbearing. No one had asked her to do so, naturally: the idea had come to her in the middle of the night, as she had tried to think of things to bring to the Spellman mansion the following evening and had realized that she didn’t quite know what a pregnant woman could even eat. Of course, she’d then thought, if Zelda had gotten drunk on whiskey and wine in her presence, she could have presumably consumed any kind of food. She did not want to take any risks, that was all.

As the bell of the shop chimed above her, she hoped Hilda Spellman wouldn’t be there and she was glad to see Doctor Cerberus standing alone behind the cash register. She could have gone to Greendale’s mortal bookshop, instead, but a magical pregnancy – as Zelda had already reminded her several times – was vastly different from a mortal one and she doubted the other store would have had any books on how to care for a supernatural newborn. Not that Zelda would have ever needed anything like that, clearly: Lilith only wanted to do some individual studying, in order to know what to expect. As she approached the counter, she realized her intentions could have seemed rather disturbing to an outsider, for Zelda’s state was still technically none of her business, but it was already too late to turn back.

“Ah, good afternoon!”, Cerberus gasped, lifting his eyes from what looked like a cheap romance novel and nodding in respect. “How may I help you?”

“Good afternoon.” Lilith said, but paused right away: had Hilda told Cerberus about her sister’s situation? Zelda would have slaughtered her if she’d accidentally shared a personal detail such as that with the friendly incubus, which was why she chose to remain vague. “A… friend of mine recently found out she’s with child and I was wondering if you had any manuals that could help her. I don’t know if that sort of things even exists, to be honest.” She understood how ridiculous her lie had sounded, since it was unlikely that a ‘friend’ of hers would have sent her on errands – unless that person was Zelda Spellman herself, who probably had just enough nerve to do precisely that.

“It certainly exists, yes. I wonder, however… I mean, is this for…”, he lowered his voice, standing uncomfortably close to Lilith, even if there were no other costumers around. “Is this for Zelda? Hilda has already explained everything to me.”

As might have been expected, Hilda hadn’t been able to keep her sister’s secret from the man she was head over heels in love with. Truth be told, the idea that she was no longer the only person aware of Zelda’s pregnancy made Lilith feel relieved: countless times, during the days that had preceded her announcement, the demoness had wished for someone – an acquaintance or a particularly caring servant – with whom to share her concerns about the witch’s health, but, as she had never had neither confidants nor companions, she’d needed to keep her worries to herself.

“Yes, it is.” She whispered back. “Well, she hasn’t _directly_ asked me to do anything. But, as Hilda might have told you, I promised the Spellman family my protection and I thought it would be good to do some research.”

“That is very generous of you.” Doctor Cerberus commented, not quite looking at her in the eyes, perhaps out of reverence. “If you will follow me, I’ll take you to the nursing and midwifery section. I have to say, though, Hilda probably has a lot of books like that at home. You could ask her to—”

“I’d rather buy them myself, thank you.” Lilith cut him off, as she wasn’t in the mood for an uncomfortable conversation with Hilda Spellman about teething infants and witches’ reproductive health.

“I understand.” The man replied, leading her to a set of high shelves, all filled to the brim with books, pamphlets and manuals. “Anything you’re looking for in particular?”

“Merely the basics, truly. I’m visiting Ms. Spellman in a few hours and I don’t even know what kind of food I could get her as a gift.” Lilith said. She didn’t understand why she’d chosen to reveal her plans for the day to a man she barely knew, but Doctor Cerberus looked both friendly and genuinely interested in what she was saying and, as a matter of fact, it felt good to talk to someone who wasn’t going to yell in her face and dramatically storm out of the room, as Zelda usually did. “I’ll take a couple of these and start from there, I think.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Cerberus smiled, taking three tomes off the bookshelves and heading back to the counter. “These are on the house, of course.”

“Please, I couldn’t—”

“I insist.” He smiled again. Lilith felt somewhat guilty, for she’d thought him to be a dull, mediocre bloke up until that very moment, when she’d come to the conclusion that he was, in fact, fairly tolerable. He and Hilda would have made an almost acceptable couple. “I do have a suggestion, if I may.”

Lilith nodded, encouraging him to continue. “I was at the Spellmans’ yesterday, visiting Hilda, and I overheard Zelda scolding Ambrose for finishing all the ice cream. She asked Hilda to go buy her some, but she refused, saying it was better for her to eat fruit and healthy snacks instead.” He paused, giving Lilith an almost imperceptible wink, evidently forgetting that he was talking to the almighty Queen of Hell. “So, if you’re still asking yourself what to gift her, I believe your High Priestess might be craving mint chocolate chip ice cream.”

“That’s… nice of you, thank you.” Lilith replied, unsure why the man was being so helpful. She was, frankly, disgusted by the idea of mint and chocolate mixed together into a single dish, but, if that was what Zelda wanted, then that was what Zelda was going to get. “And thank you for the books, too.”

“Not at all. Thank you for choosing Cerberus Books!”, he said, but Lilith was already out of the door, headed towards the local ice cream shop, praying for it to be still open at half past eight in the evening.

Luckily, she arrived there a few minutes before closing time. Trying to keep a low profile, as the mortals in town still believed her to be sweet Ms. Wardwell, she bought a large pint of ice cream and some homemade waffle-shaped cookies to go with it. The entire time, she couldn’t stop thinking about how silly that gesture was going to look, even excessive, but the slight possibility of pleasing the redheaded witch convinced her that it was worth a try. Thanking the clerk, she walked out of the shop with a tub full of ice cream for Zelda and teleported herself to the Spellman house, hoping not to arrive too early.

As she appeared in front of the mansion, a shiver ran down her spine: out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a dark shape run into the woods that surrounded the property. Looking around, she could see nothing but an unexpected thick fog that was falling rapidly upon a sleepy Greendale and she chose to ignore her suspicions, deciding it had probably been Sabrina’s cat, hunting for mice and other innocent creatures. Realizing she’d failed to remember to step by her cottage to pick up some old tomes, she muttered a rapid incantation and the ancient books on dark magical arts materialized in her arms. Before she could even ring the doorbell, she spotted a figure on the other side of the frosted glass door: had Zelda been waiting for her?

“Hi.” Lilith said, as the witch let her in. Opening with an informal greeting had been a bold move, but Zelda hadn’t even seemed to notice. “Were you expecting me? Am I late?”

“What? No. I was…”, she stuttered, gesticulating. “No. We just ate dinner and I was going outside for a breath of fresh air, that’s all. Please, follow me.” She added, headed in the direction of the living room.

“Don’t you want to go outside, first?”

“What?”, Zelda asked, distractedly, having forgotten the lie she’d just told.

“Nevermind.” Lilith grinned to herself: Zelda had definitely been waiting for her arrival. “I’ve brought you something, like you told me to. How do you feel about ice cream?”

“How do I feel—”, Zelda began to repeat the question, but stopped herself when Lilith handed her the large pint of ice cream. Her eyes went wide when she opened the tub and saw that it was, indeed, her favorite flavor, likely wondering how in the name of Satan the demoness had managed to pull that off. “Thank you.” She said, trying to mask her delight. “Let me grab some bowls. We can eat this while we talk.”

“I’m fine, actually. I brought it for you.” Lilith replied and noticed, somewhat pleased, that the woman’s face had acquired a faint shade of red. As Zelda disappeared into the kitchen, Lilith made herself comfortable on the sofa. In that moment, she remembered that she still had the manuals Doctor Cerberus had given her and, not knowing what Zelda’s hypothetical reaction to her latest purchases would have been, she chose to hide them under all the other tomes, hoping that the witch would mistake them for spellbooks.

A second later, Zelda emerged from the kitchen, happily carrying her bowl of ice cream and a spoon. Lilith’s face lit up when she noticed the glow in Zelda’s eyes and her rose-colored cheeks and thought that, if it took that little to make her content, she was willing to get her her favorite foods every single day – even if it meant having to listen to Hilda’s rants on vegetarianism and healthy food choices. Sitting next to her, so close that their knees almost touched, Zelda took a pair of glasses from a drawer and put them on.

“Since when do you wear glasses?”, Lilith couldn’t help but ask, surprised.

“A couple of centuries.” Zelda answered, talking through a mouthful of ice cream, which was clearly so good that it made her forget her good manners. Lilith’s heart fluttered. “I use a charm to temporarily fix my sight, but there’s no point in doing so at home, in front of my family.”

The demoness waited for a correction, expecting Zelda to point out that she was not, in fact, as close to her as her own family was. The rectification, however, never came, and Lilith felt a pleasant kind of warmth pool within her, even though she imagined the witch had simply been too distracted by her delicious dessert to understand the implications of what she’d just said. “You look very nice.” Lilith complimented her. “With glasses, I mean.” And without, of course, but she couldn’t share that last consideration out loud.

“Being blind as a bat is not exactly a fashion choice, but thank you.” Zelda mumbled, still working on her ice cream.

Amused, Lilith noticed that the witch had a small trace of chocolate on her upper lip. “You have a bit of…”, she gestured, pointing at her mouth. Zelda tried to reach for it with her tongue, before realizing how inappropriate her gesture had been and blushing profusely. Lilith allowed a soft laugh to creep from her smile and inched towards Zelda, removing the ice cream mustache with her own finger, resisting the temptation to run her thumb over the gentle curve of the redhead’s lips. They stood frozen for an instant: Lilith, sitting near the woman whose presence alone made her heart jump to her throat, couldn’t hear anything beyond the sound of her own labored breathing and the blood that had rushed to her ears. Zelda opened her mouth, as if to say something, but stopped herself. Lilith didn’t say anything, either: words failed her and, even if she’d mustered up the courage to let them flow free, she wasn’t sure what she would have said. A confession of love? A revelation of truth? A simple word of gratitude, for each tender moment spent with the other woman made her feel grateful, lighter, whole?

Instead, she retreated to her corner of the couch, clearing her throat and picking up one of the books. She could feel Zelda’s gaze still fixed on her, but didn’t dare look up. Aware, then, that her hands had begun to tremble, she tried to focus on her reading, but soon saw that she’d accidentally opened one of the pregnancy guides. She started to pray that Zelda wouldn’t notice, but, since things seemed to have a way of always going wrong when it came to the other witch, she immediately did. “What is that?”, she asked, breaking the silence.

“Oh, this…”, Lilith stammered, buying herself some time. “I picked up a pregnancy manual. I thought that—”

“A… pregnancy manual?”, Zelda replied, scrunching up her nose. “Lilith, you do remember that I am a midwife who has _never_ lost a child in her career, right?”

“Hard to forget when you mention it every time the topic comes up, yes.” Lilith couldn’t stop the sarcasm from seeping into her voice. “I wanted to get informed, that’s all. I crave knowledge on episiotomies and mood swings. _Fascinating_.” With relief, Lilith noticed that Zelda was attempting to suppress a smirk. “Besides, I knew about your state before you even started to figure it out, which might mean I have a knack for this sort of things.”

“Touché.” Zelda replied. “Let me know if you find anything interesting. In the meantime, I will look for something actually useful in one of these other volumes. Oh, what the—”, she exclaimed, noticing that the demoness had purchased two more books on childbearing. “Did you rob a bookstore, Lilith?”

“I like to be prepared.” The other woman answered, resuming her reading.

A comfortable silence fell between them, interrupted only by Lilith’s occasional remarks on the most gruesome aspects of birthing a child and the sound of an owl hooting in the still of the night. For the first time since the day she’d met Zelda, Lilith managed not to be too distracted by her company and was focused on her book, though the idea of the redheaded woman possibly having to go through some of the things described in it made her skin crawl. In order to swat some of those horrible thoughts away, she tried to inquire about Zelda’s pregnancy, just to make sure she wasn’t experiencing gestational hypertension, hyperemesis gravidarum or other illnesses she had no idea how to pronounce. Zelda, as expected, wasn’t keen on sharing such private details and circled around Lilith’s questions.

“Which trimester are you in, by the way?”, Lilith asked.

“Why would you ever need that information for?”, Zelda snapped, defensively. “Do you also need to know my calorie intake? How much I weigh? Satan only knows what nonsense is written in those silly books of yours!”

“Maybe I’m trying to make small talk.” Lilith joked, as she had expected a similar reaction from the other woman. She needed Zelda to know that her prying was coming from a place of love, not from a want of idle chatting. “I might be actually worried for you, you know? Worry is not above me.”

Zelda puffed, placing her empty bowl on the dresser next to the couch. “Fine.” She said, lifting her eyes from the tome in her lap. “Second trimester. Two more to go. A witch’s pregnancy lasts—”

“It lasts more than a human one, yes. I read that part.” She paused. “Did you know that sweet potatoes are supposedly good for you?”

“Do you even know what a sweet potato is? Have you ever seen one?”, Zelda asked, snorting in amusement when Lilith shook her head. “You’re sounding like Hilda. And sweet potatoes taste like dirt, anyway. I wouldn’t eat one of those even if I were starving.”

“What about berries, then?”, Lilith’s smiled, surprised to learn that, deep inside, Zelda Spellman was sort of a picky eater.

“Acceptable.” The witch replied, turning a page. Lilith took it as a hint that the conversation was over and that Zelda wasn’t willing to reveal any more pieces of information about her state. Fair enough, Lilith thought: she’d been able to discover how far into her pregnancy the woman was, which was more than what she’d expected to learn directly from her – or at all.

After a brief discussion on an archaic protection spell Zelda had found in one of the books, the witch began to draw up her bare feet on the sofa, before remembering that Lilith was also there with her and pausing with her legs midair. “Do you… Do you mind?”, she said, a hint of embarrassment in her tone. “It’s not proper, but my back is aching like that of a carpenter.”

Lilith, who couldn’t have given half a damn about what was or wasn’t appropriate, nodded. Zelda placed her feet on the couch, not quite touching the demoness’ thighs, but Lilith could see that she was still uncomfortable in that position. “You could put your legs on my lap, if you’d like.” She said. Zelda looked at her as if she were a creature from outer space. “Unlike you, Zelda, I don’t need glasses and I can see you’re not comfortable like that.”

“Nonsense. I would never—”

“I’ll move to the armchair, then.” Lilith said, gesturing to get up.

“No!”, Zelda exclaimed, a little too fervently. Seeing that she’d almost shouted her disapproval, the woman sat still, shooting Lilith a heated glance, only to eventually give in. “Fine, then. I wouldn’t want you to sit on that armchair. It’s too… firm. It would distort your back.”

“Sure.” Lilith said, holding back a grin. When Zelda placed her soft legs on Lilith’s thighs, however, it was the first woman’s turn tense up: instantly conscious of the fact that she’d never been that close to the redhead for such an extended amount of time, Lilith couldn’t even recognize the words written on the pages in front of her, distracted by the loud beating of her own heart. After a while, though, Zelda’s body slowly ceased to feel like a foreign object placed on Lilith’s legs and more like a part of her own anatomy, like something that was always supposed to be there, in that life or another. Enjoying the increasingly familiar weight of Zelda’s thighs on her own, the demoness felt her head become extremely heavy and, before even realizing it, she had drifted off to sleep.

About an hour later, she awoke to the noise of a door closing upstairs and, exploring her surroundings with tired eyes, she remembered that she was still in the Spellmans’ living room. Looking in Zelda’s direction, she noticed that the witch, too, had fallen asleep, legs still stretched over Lilith’s own, and that the tome she’d been reading had fallen on the floor, as had her reading glasses. Faint snoring sounds came from the redhead’s mouth, slightly open, and she was clutching her stomach with her left hand. Moved by that sight, Lilith thought she looked like one of those winged creatures that the followers of the False God always painted on the walls of churches and abbeys; like something miraculous, that even she, the true Queen of Hell, could have never been able recreate. Wishing she could have looked at the sleeping woman for the rest of her life, Lilith gathered up the strength to get up, instead, and headed for the door.

As she was about to step out of the house, she thought about the books she’d left on the couch – and partly scattered all over the floor – and went back to the sitting room. Once she got there, shooting one last glance at Zelda’s figure, still sound asleep on the sofa, she saw that the witch was shivering a little: forgetting about the manuals at once, she fetched the blanked that had been laid on the back of the nearby armchair and covered her with it, unable to stop herself from smiling as she did so. Seeing that a lock of her ginger hair had fallen on her face, Lilith put it back into place, careful as not to wake her.

“Thank you.” Zelda mumbled, out of the blue. Lilith, who was then nearly out of the room, almost didn’t hear her. She turned back, but Zelda’s eyes were still closed shut. Apparently, the witch hadn’t been as soundly asleep as she’d thought her to be.

“For the blanket.” Zelda continued, turning on the other side of the couch, wrapping the quilt tightly around herself. “And the ice cream. And for being here.” She added, but her words were barely audible and Lilith wondered if she’d imagined them.

“You’re welcome.” Lilith said anyway, leaving the house, in case Zelda’s expression of gratitude had been real and the witch could still hear her, trapped in a comforting limbo, walking the thin line between wakefulness and sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sharing a chapter when I’ve barely started to write the next one is a dangerous game, but what’s life without a little risk? This is one of my personal favorites and I really hope you will enjoy it as well. Adding some more notes at the end, since I don’t want to spoil you anything!

“Ms. Spellman has asked to see you.” Her secretary’s voice startled Lilith out of her morning fogginess. “She said she has some books to return to you.”

“What?”, Lilith blinked, wondering if she’d heard right. Two days had passed since the night she’d fallen asleep on the Spellmans’ couch, Zelda’s legs comfortably stretched over her lap. She hadn’t heard from the witch since, for she’d been busy exploring a medieval desecrated cathedral in Edinburgh to retrieve some ancient texts, which she’d heard could contain potent protection spells. Naturally, she’d warned the redheaded woman before embarking on her adventure, leaving a note for her at the Academy, but still felt an odd sense of guilt for not having personally talked to her about it. In any case, her search had proven fruitless and she’d returned from rural Scotland the previous night.

“Ms. Spellman has asked—”

“Yes, I heard.” Lilith cut her secretary off. “Sorry, my thoughts were elsewhere. When did she talk to you?”

“This morning, before you arrived. She said you should meet her in the chorus practice room. Something about not wanting to climb stairs carrying a stack of useless manuals, if I remember correctly. I’m quoting her, of course.”

“I figured. Thank you for letting me know.” Lilith said, as the other woman stepped out of her office. She couldn’t understand Zelda’s reasoning, as the witch was a very powerful being and she could have simply sent the books to her cottage with a snap of her fingers: was Zelda looking for an excuse to see her? If so, what did she even want to talk to her about? Lilith hoped she wouldn’t have to listen to a strenuous rant about her leaving without having consulted Zelda first. She’d done that to help her find a way to protect the coven, after all.

Groaning, she got up from her chair, unsure what to expect. Walking down the stairs that led to the ground floor, she saw a great commotion outside the herbology classroom: Sister Gertrude – one of the pinch-faced faculty members who had spoken without restraint against Zelda during her announcement in the auditorium – was attempting to control a tumultuous flock of students, failing miserably. Taking pity on her, Lilith moved towards the noisy group and the disruptive teenagers quieted down once they noticed their Queen’s presence. The first woman spotted Sabrina among the crowd and the young girl shot her an uncharacteristically concerned glance, which unsettled her.

“One of you rascals did this and I will prove it!”, Sister Gertrude yelled, her back still turned on Lilith. “Who was it? The sooner you scoundrels confess, the sooner we can resolve this nasty affair!”

“Is everything alright?”, Lilith asked.

Sister Gertrude turned around, facing the demoness. Her forehead was covered in tiny pearls of sweat and her hollow cheeks seemed even paler than usual. “Oh.” She exclaimed, bowing her head. “Good morning, Lilith. Nothing you should worry about, certainly. A student must have picked the lock of the herbology laboratory overnight and stolen some supplies. I’m waiting for one of them to come clean, but they’re stubborn as Heaven, these terrible little—”

“What kind of supplies?”, Lilith interrupted her, having no time for the professor’s rambling.

“Quite a lot of ingredients, in fact!”, Sister Gertrude shouted again, looking back at the group of students, whose faces were painted with expressions of genuine confusion. “Some of them rare and rather toxic, if I may add. Herbs of all sorts, mercury, bone dust and even the small cauldron we use to brew the medicinal remedies we keep in the infirmary!”

“And none of you had anything to do with this?”, Lilith inquired, eyes fixed on Sabrina.

“No, I swear!”, Sabrina declared, conscious that the question had been meant for her. “I’ve stolen from the Academy in the past, sure! To be honest, I’m surprised I’ve only been caught a couple of times, considering the amount of…”, she paused when she saw that Prudence was gesturing at her to quit talking, realizing she’d already said too much. “Well, my point is that it _wasn’t_ us! Why would we need to ransack the lab? I’m sure many of us have all that stuff at home, anyway. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Ms. Spellman does have a point.” Lilith commented, addressing Sister Gertrude. “Is it possible that the missing ingredients have only been misplaced?”

“I highly doubt it. The lock has been picked and someone has obviously looked through several jars and chests before choosing what to take.” The teacher answered, putting her hands on her hips. “I’m starting to believe that this may be an unfunny prank, but there will still be severe consequences once the culprit is found!”

“I agree.” Lilith said, stepping away from the crowd. “I’m afraid I can’t help at the moment, but do keep me updated on the matter, please.”

As Lilith resumed her walk towards the chorus classroom, blurred thoughts swirled around her mind: after Lucifer’s fall, she’d placed a shielding spell on the Academy, which only allowed members of the Church of Lilith to enter its perimeter. However, it was no unbreakable incantation, especially if one knew exactly what kind of magic had been performed: Hilda Spellman herself had been able to let Doctor Cerberus in, the night of the Solstice Ball, and Zelda had told her that the whole thing had taken her under a minute. In truth, Lilith hadn’t believed any further measures to be required to ensure the safety of the coven, but the depredation of the herbology laboratory had made her uneasy. Wondering whether to mention her fears to her High Priestess or leave her blissfully unaware of it all, she reached the practice room and knocked lightly on the door. Hearing no answer, she turned the knob and let herself in.

Zelda was standing in a corner, her back turned to the door, and she was mumbling a melody to herself, rummaging through a pile of musical scores. She was wearing a pantsuit the demoness had never seen on her before – one Hilda had likely forced her to buy, in order to accommodate her changing figure. Had it been up to Zelda, Lilith thought, she would have probably tried to keep wearing her usual clothes up until the very last moment. She closed the door behind her and made her presence known, clearing her throat. “Lovely song.” She commented. “Are you teaching it to the students?”

“Lilith!”, Zelda gasped, dropping the pen she was holding. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Swiftly, Lilith picked up the fallen pen and handed it to Zelda, who thanked her, visibly repressing the need to tell the demoness that there was no need for her gallantry. “It’s an old French song. It was quite popular during my stay in Paris, around 1967. I believe Frank Sinatra recorded an American version at some point, but it doesn’t compare.” She explained, shoving some sheets of paper in a drawer. “I won’t be teaching it to those uncultured beasts, though. They would never appreciate it.”

“I see you have great faith in our next generation.” Lilith joked. “You speak French, then?”

“I speak eleven languages and French is one of them.”

“And you’re also incredibly humble, it seems.” The first woman teased, both amused by Zelda’s complete lack of modesty and fascinated by her knowledge. The redhead had probably spent centuries travelling around the world, studying the magical arts and increasing her powers, and the demoness often wondered if, when it came to hexes and rituals, Zelda Spellman was, perhaps, more erudite than any other supernatural being in Greendale – maybe even more than Lilith herself, though she was never going to express that last suspicion out loud.

“I have talents. Why would I conceal them?”, Zelda replied, firmly, but her tone hid a hint of delight. “If I’ve learned anything from the events of the past months, it’s that I will never undermine my own worth again. If people want to call me pretentious because of that, so be it. No one calls men pretentious, anyway. Only the women.”

“You’re right. I’m very impressed, actually.” Lilith admitted, taking one step closer to the witch. All of a sudden, she saw no point in hiding her distressing thoughts from Zelda – a woman who, with her experience and wisdom, would have certainly been able to advise her on the matter – and chose to share the doubts that had been haunting her for weeks with her. “I need to ask—”

“I wanted to thank you—”

“Please, you first.” Lilith said, realizing they’d both tried to speak at the same time.

“No, it’s nothing.” Zelda’s words had been accompanied by a dismissive wave of her hand, but an odd glow was shining in her eyes. “I only wanted to give you your books back. And to thank you, again. For going all the way to Scotland, I mean. Your secretary told me you didn’t find much, but it doesn’t matter.” She paused. “Well, it _does_ matter, naturally! And you could have warned me before leaving. But it’s good to know that you care.”

Despite the reproachful tone those last few sentences held, Lilith’s breath was taken away by the simple notion that Zelda finally trusted her. “And…”, Zelda continued, coughing a little, as if the sounds she wanted to produce were fighting their way out of her throat. “And for the other night, too. Those manuals… You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” Lilith said, attempting to hide the trembling of her voice. “I wanted to.”

“I know.” Zelda repeated, not breaking eye contact. “What did you want to tell me?”

“Oh.” Lilith exclaimed: up until that very moment, it hadn’t occurred to her that hiding things from Zelda – for example, the eerie sensation that someone had been spying on her for Satan knew how long – _technically_ counted as lying. Convinced that her confession was going to wreck the little faith Zelda had in her, she decided to come clean anyway, sick of the deceiving and untruthful creature she’d become. “There’s something I need to talk to you about, in fact. It might be urgent.”

“Urgent?”, the redhead inquired, cocking her head.

“Well, as I said, it _might_ be. Before I came down here, Sister Gertrude informed me that someone has stolen ingredients and supplies from the herbology laboratory.” She chose to lead with the least disturbing piece of information. “It happened overnight. The students swear it’s not their fault and, for once, I don’t think Sabrina had anything to do with this.”

“That would shock me.” Zelda commented. “I don’t see how that’s concerning, though. It wouldn’t be the first time that drunken warlocks have come back from Dorian’s Gray Room positively intoxicated and chosen to raid a classroom, either as a dare or out of boredom. Edward and Faustus used to do it all the time, back when we were teenagers. I always thought it to be tasteless and unnecessary, but it did happen.”

“I know, Zelda, but I think there’s more to it, this time.” Lilith took a deep breath, bracing herself for the storm that was certain to come. “I have reason to believe that someone has been following us. Well, following me, at least.”

“Whatever do you mean, Lilith?”, Zelda asked, pursing her lips.

“It started the night you slept over at my house.” Lilith sighed. “At first, it was just a feeling, like I was being spied on by someone. I didn’t pay much attention to it, considering I was quite inebriated and I could have very well imagined it. But then it happened again, three or four times, and—”

“Three or four times?!”, Zelda shouted, tensing her shoulders. “How… Why didn’t you tell me? This could be something serious, Lilith. How could you hide it from me?”

“I’m aware of that.” Lilith assented, inching forward. “I should have told you, but you already have so much to worry about and I wanted to deal with this on my own.”

“Really? And how has that been working out for you, if I may ask?”

“Not…”, Lilith stammered. “Not well, evidently. But I really thought—”

“You seem to think a lot, yet your grand plans are seldom followed by actions, are they not?”, Zelda sneered, but her breathing had grown rapid and her hands had begun to shake. “We still have enemies. The Dark Lord seeks vengeance and Faust—”, at her own mention of her former husband, Zelda held back a sob. Bile rose in Lilith’s throat as she understood how much her foolishness had upset the other witch: it would have been easy to reveal her reservations to her sooner, as to avoid that terrible mess of a situation, but Lilith had, beyond doubt, acted out of care when she’d chosen to shield Zelda from her presentiments. Desiring only for the redheaded woman to quiet down, she touched Zelda’s forearm, but the witch swatted her hand away.

“No! Listen to me, Lilith. You have… You have to _listen_.” She yelled, grabbing the demoness by the shoulders with such fury that Lilith feared for her life. “Do you have any idea… This is going to… I always feel so defenseless… Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t seem to control…”, she mumbled, trying to hide her tears behind a silk handkerchief she’d taken out of her pocket.

“I don’t mind.” Lilith reassured her, wrapping her arms around her trembling body; the other woman didn’t push her away. Holding Zelda’s body still felt somewhat unreal, as if her skin wasn’t truly her own and the hands stroking the redhead’s back belonged to someone else. Yet, there was no other creature living on that wretched planet she would have rather held, no one she would have preferred to console. “And I’m listening.” She added, calmly.

Zelda collapsed, crouching on the floor and leaning against the wall. Slowly, her weeping turned into quiet hiccups, soothed by Lilith’s placid presence. After some time, wiping her face with the embroidered tissue, Zelda began to talk. “I’m sorry.” She said, unable to mask the trace of annoyance in her voice. “I’m not usually this… impulsive. This thing is making me lose my mind.” She gestured at her own abdomen, faintly swollen.

“It’s fine.” Lilith reassured her, without mentioning that the witch had, in all probability, been just as rash and emotional before her pregnancy. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I thought I was helping you, but I should have known better.”

“You should have, yes. I’m disappointed, but not surprised.” Zelda sighed, leaning softly against Lilith’s shoulder. “At least, this proves my point.”

“What do you mean?”, Lilith asked, turning her head towards the other woman: her face was mere inches away from hers and a familiar smell of perfume and nicotine had already filled her nostrils. A wave of warmness rushed through Lilith’s body: born from the lower part of her belly, the rush of heat spread through her, burning her palms, setting her thighs and head and heart on fire, like it had many times before. In that occasion, however, Lilith noticed that something had changed: when the demoness looked back into Zelda’s eyes, she saw a similar kind of want in them, as if the witch had sensed Lilith’s desire and accepted it, deemed it worthy. Her breath had become feverish, her soul heavy with longing.

“It proves that I was right.” Zelda’s gaze wandered to Lilith’s lips, stained with red. She paused, as if she were waiting for Lilith to say something, but the mother of demons was silent, unable to focus on anything but the sugary aroma of Zelda’s breath and the ginger color of her freckles. “It shows that you care.”

“Yes.” Lilith managed to say, as a noise close to a whimper left her throat. By then, her eyes were fixed on the other woman’s mouth and she felt as if her body and essence had both been set alight, devouring her entire being. She was hoping for something to happen, anything to alleviate the sharp, scorching sensation axing into her chest. “You have no idea.” She uttered, but the last words had come out as a whisper and her sight had begun to blur.

In the fraction of a second, the pain in her skull and core convinced her that the time for hoping had ended. Aching with a primal sort of hunger, she brushed her palm against Zelda’s cold cheek, who shivered at the touch, but didn’t retreat; instead, the witch moved closer to Lilith, until their noses were pressed together and the space between their mouths was almost nothing, and it made Lilith think of that fresco painted by Michelangelo in the Sistine Chapel, the one were the False God and Adam were nearly touching, their fingers so close that one could have thought them to be lovers, rather than deity and man. And that association made her mind wander back to her own past, to the days she’d spent with Adam in the Garden of Eden, before Eve, before humanity, before Zelda. Yet, those reflections no longer filled her with sorrow: her heart was somewhere else, away from the person she’d once been and next to the one she wanted to be with, overflowing with feelings and needs she’d never imagined that, one day, she would have been be able to call her own.

So full of adoration she was afraid it was going to spill over – drowning Zelda, the Academy, the entire world – the demoness closed the space between her and the witch and laid her red-colored lips on Zelda’s, delicately: with much surprise, Lilith noticed that there had been no fire causing sparks to fly around them, no fireworks going off in the distance, none of those clichés so often described in books and television; instead, the first woman had felt as if a layer of soft cloth had been wrapped tenderly around her dark heart; like the tiredness and capriciousness of her own existence had disappeared, their weight lifted from her. She knew, reasonably, that a kiss alone – and love, on the whole – could not chase away the darkness, but, if devotion had the power to quench its thirst, even if only briefly, she was willing to care for Zelda Spellman for a very long time.

Zelda moved her hand to Lilith’s neck, caressing her sharp tendons, as she dove deeper into the kiss and tangled her fingers into the demoness’ voluminous hair, pulling just enough to make her scalp sting. Her pulse thudding beneath her fingertips, Lilith slid her hands to Zelda’s waist, slowly, carefully, afraid that any wrong move on her part could have broken the incantation and woken her up from a dream that was feeling impossibly real. Her touch made Zelda tremble and slant her head further, the taste of nicotine and honey passing from one tongue to the other, accompanied by quick gasps of breath and faint, repressed moans. When the first woman moved her hands under Zelda’s blouse, untucking it from her high-waisted pants, and felt the velvety lace of her undergarments, the witch let out a sudden groan, gently pushing Lilith’s hands away.

“I’m sorry.” Lilith muttered, out of breath, feeling blood rise up to her cheeks: she’d been so lost in her own cravings and aches that she’d forgotten to ask for Zelda’s permission to touch her, feel her, desire her. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t you dare say it.” Zelda stopped her, still panting, licking her own lips. Lilith wondered if she’d done that just to taste her again. “You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to do.”

Lilith couldn’t help but grin as she stood, wiping a thin layer of sweat off her face. Lending her hand out, she locked eyes with the redhead. “Do you often seduce your gods by crying in their arms while sprawled on the ground, or should I consider myself special?”

“All the time, in fact, so don’t flatter yourself.” Zelda said, accepting Lilith’s help to get up. Once steady, she looked back to the mother of all demons and took a small step in her direction. “Well, I’ve had worse experiences than this.” She smiled, brushing the corner of Lilith’s mouth with her index finger.

“Considering your choice in husbands, I can imagine.” Lilith teased, her body quivering at the other woman’s gesture. Observing Zelda’s tangled hair, she motioned to fix a few red locks that had fallen out of place, but a sharp thudding sound coming from the other side of the wooden door caused her to flinch and back away from the witch.

“Lilith?”, a familiar voice exclaimed, barging into the room without waiting for an answer. “Aunt Zelda, you’re here too! Why…”, Sabrina began to ask, not finishing her question: with a rapid glance at the two women’s smudged make-up and wrinkled outfits, even an imbecile would have been able to guess what had happened between them – and Sabrina, though irritating and careless, was no idiot. Evidently, whatever she had to announce was far more important than her aunt’s carnal affairs. “I’m sorry, I…”

“I’m positive you were taught to wait for an answer before furiously invading a private space, Sabrina, weren’t you?”, Zelda snapped, crossing her arms. “What the Heaven is wrong with you?”

“It’s Agatha… I think…”, Sabrina stuttered, wide-eyed and gasping for air. “Auntie, I think Blackwood is back. And he has company, this time. I don’t know… Just come with me, please!”, she insisted, bolting out of the door.

Lilith and Zelda exchanged an alarmed glance and started to follow the young witch down the empty corridor, not knowing what threat awaited them, their first kiss almost a distant memory. As they left the room, Lilith placed a kind hand on the other woman’s shoulder, hoping Zelda knew that, no matter the menace, she wasn’t going to leave her side. Not again, at least. Zelda clasped it for an instant and squeezed back, then resumed to run after her niece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They kissed and it only took them twelve chapters! Not gonna lie, writing kissing and smut scenes in English is hard and I’m always afraid it will come out sounding too Fifty Shades of Grey-ish, which is why a lot of things will probably only be implied in the next parts of this story. Hope you’ll still like it, despite the lack of graphic details. Besides, it’s not like we don’t have great smut writers in the fandom lol. See you sometime next week!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! I’ll take a second of your time to point out two quick things: for the sake of this story, we shall pretend that Satan was never trapped inside Nick’s body and that he was able to escape, which means that he’s free, but weak. Also, Zelda didn’t manage to save Leticia and Blackwood kidnapped both of his children, as I already wrote in a previous chapter. I should have said all of this sooner, but, in all honesty, I’m mostly making shit up as I go. That’s all, enjoy!

“I’m sure you’re loving this increase in dramatic tension, Sabrina, but would you kindly tell us where in the name of Satan you’re taking us?”, Zelda hissed, struggling to keep up with the young witch running in front of her. Lilith, too, was having trouble understanding the whole situation and panic had surged through her the second Sabrina had mentioned Blackwood’s name and the possibility of him having allies. What kind of allies? Potent ones, perhaps?

“It’s better if you see for yourself, really.” Sabrina replied, showing them the way to an empty classroom. Well, normally empty, as it was then filled with preoccupied chatting and a small, sulking figure at its centre, sitting on a chair. Looking closely, Lilith realized it was one of Prudence’s friends, the one Sabrina had mentioned before they’d left the chorus practice room in a hurry. “They’re here.” The young witch announced, addressing three professors who were standing in a corner.

“Oh, thank Satan!”, Sister Gertrude exclaimed, clutching her chest. Lilith thought she looked even more frantic than the last time she’d seen her, only an hour before. “Where were you? We searched for you everywhere!”

“We were…”, Zelda stuttered, her cheeks faintly gaining color. “Actually, it’s none of your business, Gertrude. Now, will anyone inform me of what is going on, or will I need to get on my knees and beg?”

“Why is that student tied to a chair?”, Lilith asked, noticing that Agatha had been restrained with a magical seal, desperately attempting to banish the image of Zelda Spellman kneeling, submissive and suppliant, from her mind. “What is happening here?”

“She’s the one who ransacked the laboratory.” Prudence intervened, stepping away from a small group of distraught teenagers. As Blackwood’s illegitimate daughter locked eyes with Zelda, Lilith saw that there was still a heavy, tacit tension between the two of them. “We found all the missing items under her bed.”

“I went back to our dormitory earlier than usual to fetch a book and caught her red-handed. She was about to meet with Blackwood, the conniving traitor!”, another young woman said, twisting her mouth in disgust, her hair red as fire. “How could you betray us, Agatha? You’re like a sister to us!”, she yelled, menacingly headed towards her friend.

“No!”, Prudence stopped her, blocking the way. “We need her alive.”

“That’s right.” Sabrina approved. “Besides, she looks like she’s out of her mind. It’s like she can’t even see us! I bet she’s under some kind of spell.”

Agatha did, in fact, have a disturbed look in her eyes: if her mortal form was, indeed, present among them, the same thing couldn’t be said about her spirit. Lilith heard Zelda clear her throat at the mention of a possible curse and decided to investigate further. “I’m glad to see that you girls seem to have the situation under control, but I’m afraid I’m still lost. How do you know that Blackwood has anything to do with this?”

“She tried to corrupt me. I mean, _he_ did.” The redheaded girl – whose name was Dorcas, as Lilith later learned – spoke softly, leaning against Prudence’s shoulder. “When I saw Agatha fumbling with cauldrons and ingredients, I asked her what she was up to. She lied, at first, and told me she was studying for our next potions exam, but I didn’t believe her, since we always cheat on our tests.” Lilith saw Zelda send the young witch an accusing glare, but she kept talking. “Then, this odd, low voice came out of her and her eyes turned bright yellow. I swear, she sounded exactly like Blackwood, but somewhat distorted. Like he was speaking _through_ her.”

“He… possessed her?”, Lilith asked, mostly to herself. “But how is that possible? Only demons can inhabit other creatures.”

“Perhaps it’s the Caligari Spell.” Zelda offered, unable to keep the anxiety from her tone.

“I don’t think so.” The demoness said, hoping to reassure the other woman. “Sabrina is right. She looks as though she’s not even here and her eyes turning the color of sulfur is a classic sign of demonic possession. How could Blackwood do this, though? That cunning viper isn’t even _that_ powerful.” She added, feeling her face grow red with suppressed rage. Hadn’t that pathetic worm already done enough damage? What was he hoping to gain, stealing supplies from the Academy and possessing innocent students? Not knowing what her enemies were planning to do against her had the ability to send Lilith over the edge and, in that instant, she believed herself to be dangerously close to her limit.

“Tell us exactly what you heard, Dorcas.” Zelda spoke again and her voice alone helped Lilith regain control of herself, even if a subterranean fury kept pooling, gradually, in the depths of her belly.

“He said that he has a plan to get his control over the Academy and the coven back, and that I could play an essential part in his new regime if I helped him. Then, there were some things I couldn’t quite understand…”, Dorcas hesitated. “Something about us all losing our powers if we keep straying further from Satan. It could be an empty threat, but he sounded certain of it.”

“Rubbish. We’re under Lilith’s protection, now. I strongly doubt that Satan could have any influence over our powers, considering how weak he must be.” Zelda interrupted her, spitting her words out as if they were daggers. The trust Zelda finally had in her filled Lilith with pride, but she couldn’t help but wonder if there was some truth in what Dorcas had said: she’d never witnessed such a strong and rapid change in devotion within a community and she wasn’t sure a conversion like that could have come without a price. Sure, humans changed their minds about their gods and faiths all the time, but an entire coven facilitating the overthrowing of its previous deity to worship a new one was something else completely. The fact that no one had experienced any changes up until then was a good sign, but not a definite one.

“We’ll find out soon enough.” Lilith said, not wanting to compromise herself. “Anything else?”

“There was something, but I don’t know…”, Dorcas resumed to talk, but immediately paused. Looking in Lilith’s direction, she didn’t dare to stare directly into her Queen’s eyes. “He said… He said he had a message for you, too.”

“Really? How thoughtful of him.” Lilith sneered. The anger that had been growing inside her was uncomfortably close to the surface and not even envisioning herself holding Blackwood’s severed head, his blood splattered all over Mary Wardwell’s delicate mortal hands, was enough to keep it from coming to light.

“Yes, he… He told me that he’s been watching you and that he knows what you’re trying to do. He said…”, she stopped again, her face pale as chalk. She swallowed, fixing her sight on the marble floor in front of her. “I don’t have to say this now, if you don’t want me to. I fear it might be rather… personal.”

“For Hell’s sake, Dorcas, we don’t have all day! Just spit it out.” Zelda exclaimed, rolling her eyes in exasperation, though Lilith couldn’t even imagine the amount of concern the witch must have been experiencing in that very moment.

“Fine. I give you my word, I’m merely reporting what I heard. He said you can keep his…”, Dorcas sighed, beginning to blush. “He said you can keep his whore wife, since he has other, younger options, anyway. And that the babe she’s carrying is of no use to him, but he might return to claim it, eventually, since a leader is always in need of spare offspring. If the child is even his, he said.”

“Oh.” Zelda whispered, and Lilith thought it to be the most heart-shattering sound she’d ever heard. The witch raised a hand to her middle and emitted a low whimper of pain, looking as if she were about to be sick. “That’s… That’s not…”, she tried to respond, but her thoughts seemed to be stuck somewhere between her mind and her throat, unable to come out.

“That’s enough!”, Lilith yelled, at long last, unleashing her built-up wrath. How _dared_ that pitiable excuse for a man talk about Zelda in that way? After everything he’d done to her, all the torture and the horrors he’d put her through? And how deplorable of him to possess a student, to communicate through her, instead of having the guts to show his sickening face and confront Lilith in person, like a real warlock. Without much pondering, she approached Agatha, who looked as if she’d been lobotomized, and grabbed her by the collar of her dress. “I know you can hear me, Blackwood!”, she yelled, her heartbeat thrumming in her ears.

She heard Zelda say something to her, but she couldn’t make out the words and a burning rage was hissing through her body as she grabbed the young woman, still unresponsive, by the shoulders. “How did you do this?”, she asked, brutally shaking her. “How did you take possession of this body? Who helped you? Was it a demon?”, she questioned her, wondering if summoning a fire ball in her hand would have done the trick. “Was it Beleth? Balam? Was it Paimon, that horrendous little—”

“Lilith, stop!”, Zelda’s voice permeated the astonished room like thunder. Lilith realized that the witch had grabbed her left arm, pressing so violently into her skin that she was sure her sharp, black nails would have left a mark, but she’d been so blinded by her ire that she hadn’t even noticed the ache. “Stop it, she’s under a spell! She can’t—”

“He can _hear_ us!”, Lilith barked in response. “He’s been hearing us for Satan knows how long! And following me, and probably some of you, as well. How do we know that this girl didn’t deliberately agree to betray us? Perhaps she’s pretending, even now, and she’s nothing but a filthy spy.”

“She would never do that.” Prudence intervened, quietly. “She doesn’t seem like herself.”

“She’s an innocent young witch who has been put under an incantation by a manipulative monster. This is not her fault, Lilith, and you out of all people should know that.” Zelda said, holding the demoness’ gaze. “Get away from her.” She added through gritted teeth, stressing every syllable, with no apparent intention of easing her grip on Lilith’s forearm.

Lilith sensed a vortex of red anger swirl inside her, twisting her stomach into a knot. Biting into her lip until she felt the familiar taste of blood on her tongue, she finally stepped away from the young witch, who had maintained her absolute silence throughout the full ordeal. In spite of what ancient texts often said about demons, her kind did have a veiled sense of empathy and Lilith knew why Zelda had defended Agatha so fervently: she hadn’t forgotten about the occasion in which the other woman had mentioned being put under the Caligari Spell, in a time that felt incredibly far away, and she didn’t blame her for wanting to defend a girl who had been condemned to a similar fate. Still, the possibility of Blackwood spying on them as they spoke made her want to murder the unwilling mole right then and be done with it, compassion be damned.

As her facial muscles twitched furiously, Lilith lifted her head and her eyes instantly focused on Zelda. She prayed that the other woman wouldn’t spot the fear and resentment concealed behind them. “Alright, then.” She said, coldly, making sure the witch could perceive the disappointment in her voice. “What do _you_ propose we do, Ms. Spellman?”

“Nonsensical accusations aside, we need to keep Agatha safe.” Seeing that Lilith had furrowed her brow in a deep frown, Zelda explained herself further. “Blackwood will try to get rid of her as soon as he finds out she’s no longer useful to him, I’m sure of it. Plus, she could tell us more about his plans. If we figure out a way to wake her from this Satan-forsaken coma, obviously.”

“Are you planning on keeping her locked up? She’s a person, Aunt Zee!”, Sabrina protested, interrupting her.

Lilith nearly let out a snort, thinking that Zelda’s niece had chosen the worst possible time to suddenly turn into some sort of activist. “Torture is a viable option, if you’d prefer that.” She half-joked, witnessing Sabrina’s expression turn somber at once. “Your aunt’s plan is far better than what I had in mind for her, Sabrina. Trust me.”

“I don’t doubt that.” The child mumbled. “It just seems like… a lot.”

“We’ll find a cure as rapidly as we can.” One of the male teachers said.

“Brother Cecil is right.” Zelda intervened. “Some of the greatest minds of our coven are gathered here right now, in this room. We’ll solve this in no time.” She said, but the look on her face told a different story and she’d begun to nervously fumble with the rings on her fingers. “Besides, we have to remember that Blackwood presumably has his infant children with him, whom we need to protect at all costs. And we don’t know what beasts he might be allied to, which means we will have to be careful.”

“The protection spell I cast on the Academy should continue to work, but that won’t stop him from trying to do to the rest of you what he did to Agatha. You need to pay attention to any type of unusual behavior coming from your friends and fellow students.” Lilith said, feeling as if she were, at last, in control of the situation, but conscious of the fact that, had Zelda not been there, things would have turned out very differently. “Your High Priestess and I will need your help to research new and more efficient incantations. In the meantime, we will personally deal with Agatha. _Civilly_ , of course.” She added that last clarification when she noticed that Zelda had shot her an accusatory glance.

“I propose we all resume our daily activities and meet in the auditorium at the end of the day. Sister Gertrude, would you lead Agatha to one of the unused dorm rooms and take all the necessary precautions?”, Zelda asked. The other professor nodded in approval and, within a couple of minutes, the classroom had emptied, though an outsider could have almost sensed a certain uneasiness still lingering in the air.

“This is not good.” The redheaded witch stated, fetching a cigarette from her pocket.

“You don’t say.” Lilith couldn’t stop herself from commenting, pursing her red lips. “I should have known something was off. I’ve been having doubts for so long! I have no idea why I didn’t act sooner.” The demoness said, but it was a lie, for she knew exactly why she’d decided to put her suspicions aside in order to enjoy a few calm, gentle moments with the other woman. Zelda had been a distraction, a disturbance in her otherwise boringly planned-out existence, and yet she did not regret a single one of her actions – not even those who had allowed a treacherous criminal to grow too close for comfort, invading one of the few places where she’d ever truly felt secure. Biting the inside of her cheeks, she started to pace around the room like a caged tiger, uncontrollably.

“Quit doing that.” Zelda said, visibly annoyed. She’d lit a cigarette, but had put it out after a couple of restless puffs. “You’re making me nauseous, watching you run around.”

“I want to kill him.” Lilith snapped, but stopped walking.

“Welcome to the club.” Zelda cackled.

“No, you don’t understand.” Lilith said, her voice deepening, approaching the other woman. “I want to kill him for a long list of reasons, but mostly for what he said. All the things that he said about you. I wish I could wrap my hands around his feeble neck and squeeze, twisting his head, breaking every bone. I want to hear the sound of his spine collapsing as I—”

“That’s enough, don’t you think?”

“No, not really. Doesn’t it bother you? Doesn’t it make you crave vengeance, punishment?”, Lilith asked, raising her chin.

“It does.” Zelda admitted, staring into the demoness’ green irises. “Or, at least, it would have, once. But things are different, now. I can no longer solely think about myself and my own needs. I will—”, she paused, suddenly. Lilith watched her as she brought her soft fingers to her abdomen and held them there, her wide eyes communicating something she couldn’t quite comprehend.

Afraid that something dreadful had happened, that some horrible realization had overcome her, the mother of demons inched towards the witch. “What’s wrong?”, she whispered, that peculiar feeling of worry still somewhat unfamiliar to her.

“Nothing.” Zelda replied, sounding almost out of breath. “It just… I think… I think it might have moved. But it’s probably only my insides churning in disgust, considering all the Blackwood talk I’ve been subjected to, recently.” She sighed, attempting to downplay the event, though Lilith observed a new, loving light in her gaze.

How was she supposed to react? Congratulate her? Ask her if she could feel it, too, and place a cold hand on her middle? Despite the warmth that pervaded her when she even stood in the same room as Zelda Spellman, Lilith felt nothing of the sort towards the babe she was carrying: maternal instinct wasn’t a thing she was sure she could ever find within herself and, despite her wish to keep both mother and child out of harm’s way, her interest in the little creature growing inside the other woman ended right there. She worried about it merely because Zelda herself did, but did she truly want it to remain that way forever? Surely, she wasn’t going to play make-believe with Zelda and the rest of her family, but, if she truly wanted to _care_ – not because someone had told her to, not because that was what Zelda had required of her, but because maybe, just maybe, it was good for one’s soul to have things one could lose sleep over – she had to start somewhere.

“I’m not doing enough to protect you.” She said, exhaling. “Both of you.”

“Move in with us, then.” Zelda replied, not skipping one beat. “We have a spare bedroom and, unlike the one at your cottage, it’s actually more than an old storage room.”

Taken aback by the offer, Lilith could scarcely grasp what Zelda had said. “Move… into your house?”, she stammered, unable to disguise her surprise. She was convinced that her expression must have been displaying her utter confusion, as Zelda had let out a pleased laugh and was staring at her with a sly grin plastered across her face.

“Unless you’d like to sleep in the backyard. The Cain Pit is rather comfortable, or so I’ve been told.” She mocked her, maintaining her close-lipped smile.

“That would put you even more at risk. What if Blackwood is after me? It would be like killing two birds with one stone, if that were the case.” Lilith responded, but she couldn’t prevent her imagination from envisaging a life with Zelda Spellman and her chaotic clan, overflowing with daily activities and heartfelt gestures that filled her with longing **–** even if she would have probably ended up assassinating Sabrina and her troublemaking cousin within a day or two. The concept of no longer falling asleep all by herself in her cluttered shack, however, did not seem too unpleasant, and neither did the idea of spending every waking moment by Zelda’s side. Naturally, she was simply letting her mind roam free and she almost laughed at the realization that, mere months before, she would have preferred to throw herself directly into hellfire rather than accept that absurd proposal.

“If he does come back, we can defeat him. We’re more vulnerable if we’re alone, are we not?”, Zelda’s rhetorical question made Lilith wonder if she even had a say in the matter. “This has nothing to do with what happened this morning, by the way. I would have asked you in any case. I believe it might be the right thing to do.”

“A spare bedroom, you said?”, Lilith replied, in the end, accepting that she’d been defeated. “I’m guessing there’s no way we could ask Hilda to sleep in there and let me camp out in your room, then?”

“Not a chance in Heaven. Besides, I like to sleep alone and I’m not fond of strangers trying to get into bed with me.” Zelda teased, biting her lower lip in a manner that made Lilith’s stomach flutter with delight. “I should be taking that as a yes, I assume?”

“As you wish, _stranger_.” Lilith sighed, but could barely contain her excitement: it was either going to be one of the worst torments she’d ever been forced to endure, not as awful as she’d originally pictured, or – and that was a very remote possibility, but it sparked something remarkably close to hope inside her – an experience she could have almost enjoyed. “The coven is going to talk about this like it’s the most critical piece of news they’ve received in centuries. Are you not bothered by that?”

“Have I ever given you the slightest impression that I might care about what people think?”

The answer was yes, from time to time, especially when others disagreed with her and she threatened to turn them into slippery frogs, but Lilith lied, shook her head and placed her hand, tenderly, on Zelda’s sleeve. “I will tell my servants to move my things to your mansion, then.”

“Please, don’t transfer Mary Wardwell’s entire wardrobe to my house. Don’t make me regret this.” Zelda joked. Brushing her fingers against Lilith’s, so swiftly that the demoness barely felt their weight on hers, the redhead left the classroom, the sound of her heels echoing in the hallway. Having yet to piece together everything that had gone down over the course of less than a day, Lilith grinned to herself, her heart and spirit soaring with possibility.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the slight delay! Exams are coming up and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to keep updating weekly, but writing relaxes me and I enjoy sharing whatever monstrosities my terrible brain comes up with with all of you, so I’ll try my best. Not an action-filled chapter, but I hope you’ll still like it!

Two weeks had passed since the morning Lilith had accepted Zelda’s proposal to move in with the Spellman family and her time with them had been as chaotic as she’d imagined – if not worse. Between Sabrina and Ambrose disseminating manuals all over the house in order to find a cure for Agatha’s torpor, Hilda insisting on baking every single morning – mostly as part of her own self-soothing process, but also because Zelda would repeatedly wake up craving a specific kind of lemon tart their mother used to make, or some foreign sweets she’d tasted in Vienna a full century before – and Salem hissing at her whenever they crossed paths, Lilith hadn’t had much time to adjust. She’d figured that her days at the Spellmans’ would have ultimately fallen into a routine, but she’d made that assumption solely basing her considerations on Zelda’s proverbial punctuality and hadn’t taken the rest of her clan into account. In fact, she never knew what to expect when she came back from the Academy in the evenings: she would often step into the house, worn out by the long day, and find out that several guests – Sabrina’s mortal friends, mainly, but also Doctor Cerberus, other witches and, in one occasion, a crying Prudence, whom Zelda had had to console – were going to join them for dinner, with little to no notice. In such occasions, she tried her best to help Hilda out with the cooking and the blonde woman always accepted her assistance, smiling brightly, though Lilith knew that she was probably going to do more damage than good.

She admired Zelda’s ability to maintain her complete control over her family and coven during those difficult times: an attack from her vicious former husband and his hypothetical allies could have come at any moment, but the redhead still managed to set up impromptu task forces to discover where Blackwood was hiding, coordinate the rest of the distressed professors and choose which seasonal floral centerpieces to place in the middle of the dinner table, as if all those duties were equally essential. Lilith, on the other hand, had barely gone back Hell to quickly check up on her servants and had returned to the mortal world the second she’d made sure that things were running smoothly without her.

As for her personal relationship with the witch, Lilith couldn’t have been more confused: after their kiss in the chorus practice room, she’d expected something to happen between the two of them – not a tearful declaration of love on Zelda’s part, of course, but a small sign, a veiled message, something to prove to her that their embrace hadn’t been brushed off by the other woman as a mere moment of weakness. She needed proof that it had been something she had _wanted_. Clearly, the enticing looks and flirtatious teasing Zelda reserved specifically for her were a decent indication of her feelings, but they weren’t enough.

It was ridiculous, Lilith would frequently think, how an old version of herself – one that was more astute, lascivious, somewhat shallow – would have been perfectly fine with a relationship based on the other person’s insecurities and ambiguous behavior: a connection built solely on want, titillation and eventual sex was everything the previous Lilith would have asked for. The current one, however, found herself craving for more: whenever she heard Zelda sigh and yawn after a long, stressful day, she would wish there were something she could do to alleviate the tension, to make her feel at peace; and when they touched, walking through narrow door frames or passing each other salt and pepper during dinner, Lilith knew it had only happened by accident, but she couldn’t help feeling as if her own body were drawn towards Zelda’s. She was pervaded by a hunger of sorts, too, but the need for companionship and devotion dug deeper into her heart. Even if she’d tried to, she couldn’t have named the sentiment: she’d had temporary lovers, untrustworthy allies and creatures whom she’d briefly come to call her friends, but the way her stomach ached when she caught a glimpse of Zelda Spellman as she fixed a fallen lock of her ginger hair seemed bigger than that.

As a direct consequence of her silent dedication, Lilith had started to run daily errands for the rest of the family: she didn’t particularly enjoy having to leave the house at eight in the morning to buy oven-fresh bread, pretending to be Mary Wardwell as she exchanged swift greetings with the local baker, but the look on Zelda’s face when she bit into a warm baguette slice, always covered in strawberry jam and a thin layer of peanut butter, was the reason why the demoness had begun to set her alarm clock at half past seven every night, shortly before falling asleep. Those small tasks, done because Zelda had nicely requested her to, did not, in truth, appear like chores at all.

That one night, for example, she’d forced herself to go into town to purchase three boxes of chocolate-covered coconut bites, after Zelda had stared at her with a dying-puppy-dog look and Hilda had rightfully refused to prepare them for her at nine in the evening. She’d done her best to appear irritated by the demand, but the feeble smile that had appeared on her lips when she’d noticed Zelda’s satisfied expression had presumably betrayed her thoughts. Stepping out of Greendale’s only grocery store, she realized that it had started to drizzle and, with a flick of her wrist, tried to teleport herself to the Spellman property. Except, nothing happened.

Slowly starting to panic, worried that she might have been losing her abilities, she suddenly remembered that Zelda had set up a new protection spell a couple of hours earlier – one that made it possible for people to travel magically _from_ the house, but not _to_ it. Cursing herself for her forgetfulness and wishing she’d taken her car to get there instead, she came to the conclusion that she couldn’t undo the enchantment – which had taken Zelda quite some time to produce – and that her only option was to reach the point closest to the mansion and walk from there. Her plan would have worked out rather nicely, had a huge thunderstorm not broken out when she was halfway through her journey, running through the woods that surrounded the estate.

Uttering every profanity known to man, she attempted to shield both herself and the boxes of chocolates from the rain, but cold water was coming down from the skies in buckets and loud thunders could be heard in the distance. Shivering, she walked as fast as possible, occasionally snapping her fingers out of habit and swearing at herself when she recalled that she couldn’t use her teleportation spells. At last, she spotted the porch of the Spellman family home and hurried towards it, hair and clothes completely wet.

“It’s me!”, she yelled, furiously knocking on the door. She wanted Zelda to open it, so that the witch would be forced to acknowledge the disaster that her silly cravings had led to. “Open up, for Hell’s sake! It’s raining like a bitch out here and I’m—”

Sister Gertrude’s puzzled face appeared in front of her before she even finished the sentence. Examining her appearance, Lilith saw that the witch wasn’t wearing the usual boring, ancient outfits she always saw her in at the Academy and that a tumbler of whiskey was resting in her hand. “Oh, Lilith.” She exclaimed, obviously attempting not to focus on the demoness’ rain-soaked attire. “I’m sorry, Zelda said I should get the door. We’re having drinks with the other professors and…”, she explained, but Lilith, no longer paying attention to her, had already entered the threshold.

Spotting Zelda’s figure as she was walking in the direction of the kitchen, Lilith hurried her pace and nearly tripped because of her wet soles, catching the witch before she disappeared into the other room. “I have your chocolates.” She said, panting. “I had to run for twenty minutes under a full-blown storm to get them, not a big deal. Is there any specific reason why I was greeted by Sister Gertrude’s deathly white snout at the door?”

“Thank you, I appreciate your sacrifice.” Zelda replied, greedily snatching the boxes from Lilith’s arms. “I invited a few professors over. To socialize and such.”

“ _Socialize_? That’s hilarious, Zelda.” Lilith chuckled, drying her hair with a towel she’d fetched from a pile of clean laundry Hilda had left on a nearby chair. “I’m not sure you even know all their names. Why didn’t you mention it before I left? Are you hiding something from me?”

“Please, don’t be absurd. If I were hiding something from you, you’d never find out.” Zelda sneered, unwrapping a coconut bite and popping it into her mouth. “I need them on my side and I’m offering them alcohol and food in exchange for their loyalty.”

“I imagine you’re in no way going to boast about the fact that the Queen of Hell is currently living under your roof, then?”

“That might be an incentive.” Zelda smiled, playfully rolling her eyes. “Come _socialize_ with me.” She added, gently grabbing Lilith by the wrist and leading her into the living room.

“Have you seen me, Zelda? I’m making pools of rainwater on the floor as I move.”

“Luckily, one of the benefits of being a deity is that people can’t say a single thing about your drenched clothing. Besides, I’ve been looking for a way to kindly ask them to get out of my house for half an hour and your entrance might do the trick.” She whispered, stroking Lilith’s forearm. “And yes, maybe I would like to brag. A little. Don’t I deserve that?”

Lilith, who had never witnessed another person take such pride in a wretched demon like herself, was amazed by the notion that Zelda wanted to show her off to the rest of the coven and followed her like a moth attracted by a scorching flame. When she entered the room, a few familiar faces turned and nodded in reverence. “Good evening.” She said, realizing only then how tired she sounded. “Don’t mind me, I’m merely passing through. Even gods get caught in rainstorms, I fear.”

A low snickering sound filled the room, but was instantly covered by Zelda’s husky voice. “Have a drink with us, Lilith. We’re discussing defense plans and badmouthing Blackwood, which is something I believe you may appreciate.” She said, filling an empty glass with whiskey and handing it to the first woman. Then, without warning, she placed a hand on Lilith’s forearm and escorted her to the couch, where she sat down next to her, lighting a cigarette. The gesture hadn’t gone unnoticed by the teachers and two or three of them were talking among themselves, their backs turned on them, likely discussing the baffling nature of their relationship.

Lilith was taken aback by Zelda’s simple motion as well and she wondered whether she’d acted that way because she did, in fact, desire to show everyone how tight the two of them were, or if, maybe, she thought of Lilith as a sort of companion – someone with whom she could share aged liquors, gossip and her place on the old sofa. Taking a sip of the burning liquid, Lilith carelessly slid her arm behind Zelda’s shoulders. She didn’t know why she’d done it: perhaps she needed to test the witch’s boundaries, to see how close she would allow her to get. It was also possible that she just wanted to touch her, to feel the taffeta of her blue dress under her own skin: the need for physical contact was frivolous and painfully human, yet Lilith could feel it, deep inside herself, threatening to break free. It was humiliating and pitiable, but it was still something that belonged to her. Not many things did.

To her surprise, Zelda didn’t flinch, but leaned on her arm, instead, her long hair tickling her slightly. Satisfied by the woman’s reaction, Lilith looked around the room, a pleasant heat filling her body. Zelda began to chat with one of the older warlocks, periodically refilling her tumbler, while Lilith felt quite content with the amount of alcohol she’d consumed and stopped the witch when she tried to top her glass up. “No, thank you.” She said, almost imperceptibly stroking Zelda’s hand. “Your tolerance for hard liquors is far better than mine.”

Zelda smirked, eating one more chocolate and resuming her conversation with the other gentleman. Even if she enjoyed the idea of spending an entire night sat next to Zelda Spellman, their thighs faintly touching, Lilith was soon overcome with a tiredness she couldn’t shake off. Placing her drink on the tea table in front of her, the demoness got up from the sofa, observing a certain disappointment in the redhead’s features when she did so. “I’m afraid I will have to call it an early evening.” She said, addressing the entire room. “Much to do tomorrow.”

“Yes, I was thinking the same thing.” Zelda intervened. “It was a lovely night, but I’m sure we all must be very tired, considering how hectic the past few weeks have been.” Several people nodded and began to grab their bags and coats, heading for the door. Like the perfect hostess she was, Zelda accompanied them outside and waved until the last one of them had disappeared from her view. At last, she stepped back inside, sighing audibly.

“Long night?”, Lilith inquired, collecting the half-empty glasses and placing them on a tray.

“You have no idea.” Zelda sniffed, falling back onto the couch. She took off her shoes – something she did regularly, those days, to the point that, after the first couple of times, the action didn’t shock Lilith anymore – and lit another cigarette, closing her eyes. “I desperately need those frustrating schoolmarms to trust me, but it’s hard to build connections when everyone is so _utterly_ boring.”

“Not many intellectually stimulating conversations, I presume?”

“That would be an understatement.” Zelda took another puff, surrounded by a mint-smelling cloud of smoke: unable to stand the taste of regular nicotine, she’d taken up smoking flavored cigarettes, which masked the strong odor of tobacco. Sabrina had tried to mock her, blabbering about e-cigs and edgy teenagers, but the glance her aunt had shot her had convinced her to shut her mouth. “If I hear one more anecdote about one of Sister Mathilde’s cats, I may have to look into one of those silencing charms they used to punish conspirators back in the Middle Ages.”

“I hope it won’t come to that.” Lilith grinned. “I’m going upstairs. Would you…”, she hesitated, as Zelda raised an eyebrow. Taking in a deep breath, she continued. “Would you like to come upstairs? I could make tea and we could talk. About anything, really. I wouldn’t mind the company.” She wasn’t sure where that offer had come from: maybe their recent closeness had given her the courage to ask for something else, for _more_. Mostly, she was just sick of being alone.

“I truly am tired.” Zelda answered, not meeting Lilith’s eye. The demoness could have sworn that, even if only for a fleeting moment, the woman had considered the offer. It didn’t matter, however, since her refusal had seemed pretty unambiguous. “And you know I prefer to sleep—”

“Alone, yes. I remember.” Lilith said, gravely, trying to conceal her frustration. “Don’t worry. It would be better if I went to bed at a reasonable hour, anyway.” She feigned a smile, waving softly at Zelda and walking up the stairs, feeling her legs get heavier and heavier with each step.

Finally reaching the guest bedroom, the first woman ungraciously plopped herself down on the mattress and rubbed her eyes. Staring at the ceiling, she muttered a quick incantation to remove her smudged make-up and half-dried dress, putting a black nightgown on. The usually enjoyable feeling of silk on her skin made her feel uneasy, as if she were wrapped in a smooth, foreign membrane, which sent uncomfortable shivers up her spine. Was it because it had been a while since the last time she’d worn that nightdress? Or, perhaps, was it because she would have preferred to be touched by something – _someone_ – else, that night? With a grunt, she moved to the right side of the bed – merely out of habit, as she wasn’t waiting for anyone to lie down on the left one – and drew the covers up to her bare shoulders, silently starting to drift off to sleep.

Tiptoeing on the verge of unconsciousness, she suddenly heard the distant noise of a door creaking open. At first, she chalked it up to her own imagination, assuming that her exhaustion had simply been playing tricks on her, but bolted upright, startled, when she felt a dip on the mattress beside her. Confused and half-asleep, she glanced over to her other side and recognized Zelda’s familiar shape: in the moonlight, her long, combed locks looked honey-streaked and her satin sleeping mask, pushed up on her forehead, gave her a certain aristocratic aura, as if she’d just come out of an old black and white movie filmed in a foreign city.

“What—”, Lilith tried to speak, her voice groggy.

“I forgot that Hilda is staying at Doctor Cerberus’ house tonight. It is rather lonely without her.” The witch answered, unpredictably matter-of-fact, as if Lilith’s question had been the most idiotic query she’d ever heard in her entire life. “Do you mind?”

“Don’t you prefer to sleep alone?”, the demoness teased, falling back on the bed and offering Zelda half of her quilt. She hadn’t anticipated that turn of events, but she was fascinated by the idea of the redheaded woman experiencing feelings such as loneliness and a disguised desire for closeness. Of course, she didn’t take pleasure in knowing that Zelda was feeling somewhat abandoned by her sister, but it made her more approachable, since, lately, the first woman had found herself having those same wishes and lacks, too.

“Oh, be quiet.” Zelda laughed, lying down. “Is there only one microscopic blanket in this whole room?”

“How would I know? This is _your_ house.”

“Fair enough.” Zelda puffed. “We’ll have to share, then.” She added, pulling the quilt towards herself and leaving the mother of demons half-naked and shivering in the chilly spring air. Lilith didn’t complain, afraid that any kind of protest would have encouraged the witch to leave, and let the coldness engulf her, as if it were something she deserved – a price to pay in exchange for the gift of Zelda Spellman’s soft body lying right next to her, smelling of jasmine and mint.

“Goodnight, Zelda.” She said, but received no answer and assumed the witch had already drowsed off, won over by fatigue and somnolence.

Her supposition, however, was incorrect, for Zelda was still wide awake and soon began to look for something in the dark, moving her fingers around the mattress, her back still turned on Lilith. Not sure how to react, the demoness scooted closer to her, lightly grabbing her wrist, showing her that she was still there. As she was about to ask her if there was anything she needed, Zelda shushed her and took her hand, moving it to the curved line of her stomach, covered only by a thin layer of cloth. Immediately, Lilith felt a rough tap against her palm and her fogged mind finally registered what was happening: Zelda’s babe was kicking – with quite a lot of vigor, as a matter of fact – and the witch had chosen to share the experience with her. Unexpectedly, a warm sensation grew all around her, stemming from her very core and chasing away the chill of the night: it was, she thought, as if her heart were growing, swelling – with affection, perhaps, or thankfulness, or some equally unknown emotion she was both terrified of and grateful for. After an instant of uncertainty, Lilith allowed her muscles to relax, her chest gently pressed against Zelda’s back, and let her fingers lie tenderly on the woman’s belly, taking in the newborn sensation of falling asleep next to another person – not one who had immense power over her, one who could use and manipulate her to their own will, but a woman who, under a harsh, scarcely penetrable surface, was kind and good. A creature she liked, and cared for, and maybe even loved.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get NSFW at the beginning of this new chapter, but nothing too graphic. More notes at the end!

A bright light streaking through the huge window behind the bed woke Lilith up from her deep slumber, the faint taste of the previous evening’s whiskey sharp on her tongue. Slowly opening her eyes, hurt by the vivid glow of the morning sun, the demoness noticed the red-haired figure lying beside her and, in an instant, remembered that she had, undeniably, ended up falling asleep next to Zelda Spellman. The other woman lied motionless, breathing delicately, seemingly unbothered by the intense daylight, but had turned in Lilith’s direction during the night and their hands were sheer millimeters away from each other, as if they’d slipped into unconsciousness in that position. They hadn’t, of course, for Lilith perfectly recalled the sensation of Zelda’s warm back against her breasts and the way she’d had to settle for a minuscule section of the mattress when Zelda, who had dozed off before her, had moved around and occupied the whole bed and she hadn’t had the heart to ask her to make room for her. She also hadn’t forgotten how the witch had taken her tired hand and placed it on her middle, letting her sense the babe’s movements and experience something she wasn’t even sure Zelda’s closest family members had yet been allowed to feel.

Not wanting to disturb the witch, Lilith silently got up, walked into her private bathroom – the guest bedroom was connected to a small area with a toilet, a rusty sink and a wooden stool, but it was more than enough for a demon who would typically get ready with the help of a fast incantation – and washed her face with freezing water, enjoying the tingling feeling it left on her skin. Staring at her own reflection in the tiny mirror above the sink, checking her mortal façade for wrinkles and blemishes, she attempted to convince herself to get dressed and head downstairs for breakfast, but a sly voice in the back of her head whispered at her to return to bed, even if merely to gaze at the resting redhead for a while longer.

Choosing, as per usual, to follow her instinct over the rational part of her brain, she slipped back under the covers – or, it should be said, the extremely small part of the quilt that Zelda had generously let her have, wrapping the rest of it around herself – and welcomed the pleasant heat. Turning towards Zelda, she was struck by her beauty in the early sunlight: her face, puffed up with sleep in a way that made her look even more lovely, was healthy and pink around the cheeks, with plump lips and ginger freckles. Lilith couldn’t prevent her eyes from pausing on the woman’s chest, which, due to the sort of lingerie the witch insisted on wearing even a few months into her pregnancy, was partly exposed and revealed the rounded silhouette of her breasts, porcelain white, dotted with occasional light moles. She stopped herself before her gaze could wander further, past her curved abdomen, just above her smooth legs, knowing that that kind of contemplation would have constituted an unfair breach of Zelda’s trust.

“You’re staring.” A croaky voice muttered, while Lilith, sight fixed on Zelda’s features, came to the realization that she’d been staring at the – perfectly awake, or so it appeared – redhead for quite some time. “Like what you see?”

“How could I not?”, she answered, blood rising up to her head. She’d expected Zelda to scold her and act insulted by her unrequested admiration, but her comment had seemed almost like an invitation and the simple idea of the witch accepting her advances caused Lilith’s throat to feel exceptionally dry.

Scooting closer to her, barely covered by the tepid quilt, Zelda traced the slopes of the demoness’ cheekbones with her thumb, pausing when she reached her mouth. “I have to say, I’m surprised we’ve managed to resist for so long.” She laughed, hoarsely, her tone coated with slumber. “Sleeping next to another person is not as uncomfortable as I’d imagined, after all.”

Lilith could have politely disagreed, as she’d spent the night shivering and risking to fall off the bed to make space for the other woman, but she said nothing and approached Zelda instead, tilting her head. Placing a cold hand on the hollow of her neck, she could feel her fingers throb and her own heart pulse with desire. As she tried to cover the redhead’s lips with her own, however, Zelda pulled away, wrinkling her nose. “Please, Lilith. I haven’t even washed my teeth.” She commented, somewhat ashamed.

“Believe it or not, that is not my main concern at the moment.” Lilith reassured her, scarcely able to contain the dull ache in her belly. She moved her fingers away from Zelda’s neck and let them rest on her forehead, stroking it with tenderness and pulling her satin sleeping mask away. “If you don’t wish for this, Zelda, I will stop.” It took her much strength to say that: in spite of everything, she was still an infernal creature and her species had a incredibly fragile concept of boundaries. “But if you do, never doubt that I want you. Not only now, but every day, constantly, whether you’re wearing one of your elegant dresses or a wrinkled robe. I’m burning, Zelda. I’ve been burning for a long time.” She concluded, her heartbeat so piercing that she was afraid it was going to deafen her, preventing her from hearing Zelda’s answer – had the witch actually deigned to reply.

Eventually gathering up the courage to look into the other woman’s green eyes, Lilith was surprised to find no displeasure in them, no irritation or embarrassment: on the contrary, Zelda was examining the demoness’ face with inflamed pupils, her mouth agape in what must have been a mixture of astonishment and want. Without warning, the witch touched Lilith’s forehead with her own, her eyelids closed. “I didn’t know…”, she mumbled, swallowing hard. “I didn’t know you cared so much. I didn’t believe anyone could.”

Before Lilith had even realized it, Zelda’s lips were crushed against hers and she could taste the faded aroma of nicotine and aged alcohol on the witch’s tongue. Little by little, as if rushing things could have made the moment burst like a soap bubble, the first woman pressed herself against Zelda, deepening the kiss: the awareness that she’d never craved the touch of another person in such a way washed over her like a tidal wave, nearly forcing her to retreat. Oblivious to Lilith’s secret reflections, Zelda stroked her arm, violently biting into the demoness’ lower lip, and the action sent fire singing through her, along with the knowledge that the memory of it would have been both her torment and remedy. Abruptly, as a sweet spasm of longing went through her, she pushed her leg between Zelda’s thighs and the redhead suppressed a groan, thrusting up against her.

“Please…”, Zelda begged, gasping for air. Lilith backed away, rapidly wiping the sweat from her cheeks, fearing she’d crossed a line. “No… Please, _more_ …”, the witch said, pulling her back in, and the mother of all demons understood that her lover’s words had been an encouragement to go further, to grow closer to her, to dig deeper, to get everything, to be _more_.

Shuddering beneath the slight grate of Lilith’s teeth against her neck, Zelda brought a hand to her mouth to mask the sound of a whimper, but the dark-haired woman covered it with her own lips, letting Zelda’s fingers lead hers to where her silky nightgown met her soft skin. Heat rising from every inch of herself, Lilith broke their embrace, concentrating on the woman’s collarbones, leaving a trail of kisses and bite marks along her throat, moving from the roundness of her breast to the small curve of her abdomen. Interrupting her descent, she waited for a sign of permission from the redhead, which came in the form of a low moan and a rather inelegant curse word, and slipped the straps of her nightdress down, taking off her lingerie. Grabbing the witch’s hips, she paused for a second to stare at Zelda Spellman in all her nude glory, her gasps awakening a feral need within her, before diving into her, reaching her core. Focused on her task, too preoccupied with Zelda’s pleasure and the pull of her own mane of hair by the woman’s trembling hands, Lilith did not hear the sudden knock at the door and Ambrose’s voice on the other side of it, trembling and agitated.

“Wait!”, she heard Zelda shout, her tone unusually high-pitched. Lifting herself up, Lilith frantically handed the woman her night clothes, scattered all over the bedroom floor, and tightened her robe. “One minute! We’re… coming.” Zelda panted, hurriedly swatting Lilith away.

Chuckling at the unintentional pun, Lilith attempted to fix the witch’s wild locks, but her own curls seemed to be tangled beyond repair and both women prayed that Ambrose wouldn’t pay much attention to their creased garments, smirking expressions and flushed bodies. After shooting Lilith a confused glance – one that, in a way, hid a hint of delight, as if they were two schoolgirls who had gotten away with mischief, instants away from being caught red-handed by their headmaster – Zelda welcomed Ambrose into the room, trying to look as if the other woman hadn’t been all over her up until a second before, subtly covering the redness of her face with her palms. The demoness, too, tried to hide the mark Zelda’s teeth had left on her swollen lip, but Ambrose’s baffled air convinced her that they hadn’t managed to disguise the situation as well as they’d hoped.

“I was…”, the young warlock stuttered, his chestnut eyes travelling quickly from one woman to the other. “I’m sorry, I was looking for both of you, but I didn’t think you’d be together… I’m sorry if I interrupted—”

“You didn’t _interrupt_ anything, Ambrose.” Zelda scolded him, clearing her throat, but sounding unmistakably out of breath. “I had some… matters to discuss with our Queen and I visited her as soon as I woke up.”

Ambrose, having taken a glimpse at the unmade bed and at his aunt’s hair, knotted with sweat, had the decency not call her out on her blatant lie. “It’s none of my business, really.” He murmured, going beet-red. “I came here because there’s something you should know. Can you come with me?”

“Of course.” Zelda said, maintaining her dignity. “As I already said, we were simply talking. Where do you need us to go?”

“We’re having a meeting in the living room. Sabrina, Prudence and I have made some discoveries overnight and we want to keep everyone informed.” Ambrose explained, leaving the bedroom. The two women started to walk swiftly behind him, but only after Zelda had shamefully returned to the room to put her underwear back on: in the heat of the moment, she’d barely managed to cover herself with her nightgown. Lilith almost laughed, but the witch’s knife-like gaze convinced her that it was better not to. “Here they are!”, Ambrose announced once they’d reached the sitting room, where Hilda, Sabrina and an astral-projected Prudence already stood.

“Oh, finally!”, Hilda exclaimed, spreading her arms. “Where were you, Zelds? I came looking for you in our room, but you weren’t there. And the bed was still made, which—”

“I woke up earlier than usual.” Zelda lied, avoiding her sister’s inquisitive stare and sucking in her cheeks. “I was having a conversation with Lilith. That was before Ambrose barged in like a lunatic and refused to give us any details on what is going on, clearly.”

“To what do we owe the pleasure of this morning gathering, then?”, Lilith cut to the chase, aware of her brusquely annoyed tone, but unable to cover it, as listening to Hilda’s babbling wasn’t exactly the thing she most wished she were doing in that precise instant.

“Yes, right.” Ambrose spoke again, continuing to appear rather embarrassed, and Lilith wondered if she and Zelda had positively traumatized that poor kid. “As most of you already know, I spent the night searching for ways to pinpoint Blackwood’s location with Prudence and Sabrina. We couldn’t do that, unfortunately.” He paused, suppressing a yawn. Lilith looked briefly at the other two young witches and saw that they also seemed exhausted: was that the reason why no one else had been home the previous evening? “We did, however, figure something else out. Something relevant.”

“We had to use blood magic.” Prudence intervened. “Don’t look at me like that, Zelda. We had no other options and we operated as safely as we could.” She specified, seeing that the Spellman matriarch had arched her eyebrows and was likely about to interrupt her. “We made an incision across my palm to gather enough blood essence for the enchantment and tried to use it to locate my father. It didn’t work, as he must have set up a protection spell of sorts, but we found the twins.”

“You did?”, Zelda gasped, clutching her chest. “Where? Why aren’t they with him? Where did he leave them?”

“It took us a while to understand it, but we think he left them with Morgan le Fay.” Sabrina said, rubbing her eyelids with the tips of her fingers. “This wouldn’t be the first time the children of a powerful warlock have been left to be raised by an enchantress such as Morgan and the place checks out, since they should be somewhere on the island of Avalon.”

“He left them with her?”, Lilith asked, stunned.

“You’ve heard of her?”, Zelda inquired, looking paler by the minute.

“I’ve met her.” Lilith confessed. “She was calling herself Morgana, back in the day, but I guess ‘Morgan le Fay’ does have a nicer ring to it. One of the most ambitious and cunning sorceresses this planet has ever been graced with, I reckon. In hindsight, Blackwood’s choice to leave his son and daughter with her doesn’t shock me, as she used to teach talented orphans and heirs of great rulers. I believe they’re in good hands.” She concluded, rethinking about the time she’d spent with the devious, beautiful Morgana of Avalon, her brief alliance with her and their eventual separation. The evil fairy, even if opportunistic and deceitful, was, along with Circe, Hecate and Medea, certainly one of the most capable and terribly misunderstood women in the history of witchcraft.

“What?!”, Zelda yelled, her forehead puckered. “ _In good hands_ , you say? We’re talking about fragile infants, not fish being fed by a distant relative while we all go on a merry vacation! How do we know that this Morgan you speak of will not mistreat them? How can we be sure that they will be clothed and well-fed, loved and listened to, helped and—”

“Zelda.” Lilith stopped her, kindly grabbing the woman’s left arm, aware that she’d called her by her given name in front of her family for the very first time. “I’ve known Morgana for centuries and you can trust me when I say that the twins are safe with her. There’d be no point in trying to rescue them, I’m afraid.”

“Lilith is right.” Sabrina nodded, putting a soothing hand on her aunt’s back. “We talked about it for hours and came to the conclusion that we can’t save them without drawing attention to the fact that we’re attempting to come up with a plan to defeat Blackwood.”

“They’re being cared for, Zelds.” Hilda added, a gloomy smile creeping up to her lips. “Before you protest, I know they would be better off with us, but this is a good situation. They could still be with him and that would be much worse.”

“It would, I suppose.” Zelda sighed, reaching for a cigarette, before remembering she was still half-naked in the middle of her living room and blushing faintly. “I wouldn’t count this as progress, though. We haven’t located Faustus and we can’t retrieve his innocent offspring, currently living with an unknown witch in the middle of nowhere! Not much has changed over the past few weeks and I have begun to ask myself if it ever will, in all honesty.”

“We did all we could.” Sabrina muttered, her eyes wet with overtiredness and dismay. “We really did, Auntie Zee, but it’s not easy to fight against a threat we know nothing about. If we had more information… If Blackwood tried to contact us again, maybe… But right now…”, she tried to speak, visibly choked up.

“This isn’t your fault, Sabrina.” Lilith reassured her, wrapping her up in an uncomfortable hug: she wasn’t quite sure why she’d done so, as physical contact truly wasn’t her forte, but seeing the young witch get upset over trying her very best and failing unlocked something inside her – a recollection of her own existence, perhaps, for Lilith herself knew defeat and frustration like the back of her hand. “It might take us some time, but we’ll get to the bottom of this, eventually.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Lilith heard Zelda say and watched her as she approached Sabrina and squeezed her tightly. The kid repressed a sob while Zelda stroked her hair, much more protective and maternal than the demoness had been. “I’m sorry, Sabrina. I didn’t mean to upset you and I know you stayed up all night for this, which I am grateful for. Maybe you should all go to bed, yes?”

“Lovely idea.” Ambrose commented, waving goodbye to Prudence, whose astral projection had already started to disappear. “If I’m still asleep by dinnertime, don’t you dare wake me.”

“Let’s go, love.” Hilda said, headed upstairs with Sabrina, arm in arm. “I’ll run you a warm bath and tuck you in, what do you say? You deserve it, after working so hard.”

Once they’d all left, Zelda dried her own teary eyes with her palms and exhaled, loudly. “I can’t believe I reacted like that.” She spat. “The one time my niece does absolutely nothing wrong, I attack her like she just confessed to a murder. Satan in Hell, what a morning!”

“In your defense, assuming that Sabrina did something terrible is usually the correct hypothesis.” Lilith joked, easing the tension. Feeling bold, the demoness walked up to Zelda from behind and put her hands on her waist, resting her head on her clavicle.

“Stop it!”, Zelda said, but didn’t draw back. “They could see us. We already scarred Ambrose for life, I fear.”

“There’s no one around, Zelda.” Lilith argued, chastely kissing the witch’s naked shoulder. “If you’d prefer, however, we could go back to the spare room and resume our… conversation.” She proposed, eyes glittering with primal yearning.

“Oh, has anyone ever told you that you’re absolutely appalling?”, Zelda scolded her, but Lilith could see that she was suppressing a grin. “As if I could still be in the mood for… _that_ , having received such upsetting news! Besides, I’m quite hungry and I doubt Hilda has cooked anything for us, which puts me in an even worse disposition.”

“Would you fancy some of my famous pancakes?”, Lilith half-teased, remembering the syrupy breakfast she’d once prepared for the redhead after having spent the night getting drunk and clumsily slow-dancing with her, unaware that life, despite everything, could have turned out to be that good.

“I don’t think so.” Zelda grimaced. “I did appreciate the gesture that one time, but I’d rather eat food that isn’t potentially poisonous. Croissants, maybe?”

“Are you asking me to go grocery shopping _right now_ so that you can satisfy your latest craving?”

“Would you do it?”, Zelda smiled, mischievously, knowing perfectly well that Lilith would have visited each store in Greendale and purchased every single item on sale, at any hour of day or night, if that had made the witch even slightly more contented.

“You are _insufferable_.” Lilith said, but both women knew she hadn’t meant it. With a wave of her hand, she dressed up and covered her bare face with make-up, fixing her untamed hair. Having watched Zelda disappear into the kitchen to boil some tea, she prepared herself for her long journey to the local bakery, planning to stop at the florist’s shop before returning to the mansion. If she recalled correctly, daffodils were supposed in full bloom by then and their yellow shape reminded her of Zelda: bright, mesmerizing and worthy of being celebrated – by artists, poets and, most importantly, herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I write a sex scene (sort of)? Yes. Did it sound like an excerpt from a lesbian novel written by a perverted straight man? I hope not, but if that’s the case, do forgive me, since writing NSFW passages in English isn’t exactly my strong suit. I don’t know if there will be more in the future, but I’ll definitely try to put something saucy here and there. Also, Morgana’s character is obviously not in the series, but I realized I needed a way to justify the fact that the twins are not with Blackwood and I have a thing for powerful sorceresses. That’s all, hope you liked this chapter and I’ll be back sometime next week!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and sorry for the small delay! Before we start, I’ll point out that I know that the incubus inhabiting Cerberus’ body has been set free in the series, but I’m going to pretend he’s still possessed in this story, since I don’t really care about canon and that subplot will help me draw an analogy between him and Lilith. Also, not much happens in this chapter plot-wise, but I felt like writing some domestic scenarios. That’s all, hope you’ll like it!

The brief, brusquely interrupted encounter Lilith and Zelda had had in the Spellmans’ spare bedroom had not, much to the demoness’ delight, been deemed by the other woman as an accidental one-time thing. There had been other occasions, over the course of the following days, during which the lovers had had the possibility to become more _acquainted_ with each other – two of them, to be precise. Not that Lilith was counting, of course, but, in all fairness, when one got to bed the person they’d been not-so-subtly lusting after for a very long time, it was quite hard not to keep track. In addition to that, Lilith had come to realize how incredibly hard it was to find a bit of privacy in that crowded residence and no longer blamed Hilda when the witch chose to let them fend for themselves and slept over at Doctor Cerberus’ house.

A couple of days after that extraordinary first morning, Zelda had slipped under the covers of Lilith’s bed, naked with the exception of a thin layer of lace underwear, and had clamped her hand over the first woman’s mouth to keep her from letting out a piercing scream when she’d woken up, whispering that it was only her. After making sure that the demoness did, without a shadow of a doubt, want her to stay, Zelda had made herself comfortable against the other woman’s bare back, covering her neck with wet kisses, and Lilith had instantly forgotten about her worries and cares, unable to think about anything other than Zelda Spellman’s warm lips traveling along her burning body. The following day, as Hilda prepared a full English breakfast and Sabrina lazily sipped from a mug of lukewarm milk, the redhead had tried her best to conceal the dark bruises Lilith had produced mere hours before, partially hidden behind her usual foreign newspaper, and the mother of demons, somewhat amused, had hoped that the rest of the family hadn’t been woken up in the middle of the night by Zelda’s rather loud echoes of pleasure.

The third time they’d been together, though, things had become messier than Lilith had anticipated, and not in a fun, electrifying way: not having touched the other woman in quite some time, painfully longing for a few private, secret moments with her, the first woman had approached Zelda as the witch was standing alone in the mansion’s luminous kitchen, her back turned on her. Putting her hands on Zelda’s waist and attempting to give her a chaste kiss on cheek, the demoness had, in a matter of seconds, been catapulted on the floor, completely covered in flour and other unidentified substances. Glancing at Zelda, who had let out a hearty laugh, Lilith immediately realized her mistake: the witch had – surprisingly – been baking something that looked almost like an apple tart and, having been interrupted during a crucial part of its preparation, she had accidentally dropped a bag of white flour on the ground, which had exploded and stained Lilith’s outfit from head to toe. Finding Zelda’s delight inexplicably contagious, a smile had appeared on Lilith’s own lips and it had remained there as the redhead had begun to kiss her, sliding her hands under the demoness’ chemise, taking advantage of the fact that the house was miraculously empty that afternoon. Needless to say, Zelda never finished preparing that cake and Ambrose had vehemently complained about the lack of dessert after dinner, as Lilith and Zelda had exchanged a sly glance, furtively holding hands under the table.

Lilith knew, deep inside, that that situation was too good to last: she’d never expected to find warmth and comfort in another creature – especially not a person like Zelda Spellman. Knowing betrayal and sufferance all too well, she’d tried her very best not to get carried away by the beauty and excitement derived from having, for the first time in her life, someone to come home to. The circumstances of their unlabeled relationship were less than ideal and every kindhearted word was accompanied by a worried look, a conversation about defensive measures and plans to stop Blackwood, but those threats were minimal when compared to some of the horrible tortures Lilith had had to endure and she believed, naively, that things would have worked themselves out, eventually. As for what others were going to say about their unexpected affair, she couldn’t have cared less and assumed Zelda would have reacted the same way if confronted about it, but, in truth, she wasn’t certain of it.

One evening, less than a month after she’d moved in with the Spellman family – though she couldn’t have been entirely sure of it, as the hours had started to blend together in a blur of worry and thrill – she overheard familiar voices arguing in the kitchen, coming home from a visit to Hell, where she’d had to accompany two or three particularly sinful souls through its gates. Telling herself it didn’t _technically_ count as eavesdropping if she happened to be in the sitting room as the Spellman sisters quarreled noisily in the adjacent area, she hid behind the door, silent as a mouse, and listened to the heated exchange.

“I’m _not_ telling you how to live your bloody life, Zelda!”, Hilda’s voice was high, coated with concern. “Sometimes it feels like I’m reproaching Sabrina when I try to talk to you!”

“Oh, I’m _so_ sorry, Hilda! Perhaps you wouldn’t feel this way if you treated me like a human being and stopped seeing me as some sort of troublemaking older sister!”, Zelda roared. Lilith heard the click of a lighter and could picture the redheaded woman as she chain-smoked, pacing the room like a caged animal.

“As if you weren’t acting exactly like one.” Hilda sighed. “Zelds, I really don’t want to get involved—”

“Really? You should have thought about that before you attacked me.”

“I did not _attack_ you, for Hell’s sake! I’m simply trying to have a conversation with you about this.” The younger sister’s tone became weaker, as if she were on the verge of tears. “I didn’t want to say anything, at first, but Sabrina and Ambrose have also noticed that there is something going on between the two of you and it’s a thing we should discuss, I reckon. It brings me no pleasure to confront you about this, but I’m doing it for them, too.”

“Are you?”, Zelda sneered. “Because no one in this whole household said a thing when you started dating that incubus sweetheart of yours, but when it comes to the people _I_ grow fond of, my personal life suddenly becomes a matter of public interest! Do you not want me to be happy? Is that it?”

“That is not what is happening here and you know it. But, Zelds…”, Hilda paused, catching her breath. “You married that horrendous man for power and glory and look at where it has taken you. You could be doing the same right now, for all we know!”

“Oh, now we’re also going over the terrible choices I made in the past. Excellent!”

“You’re as stubborn as a mule, aren’t you?”, Hilda shouted, followed by the sound of another cigarette being lit. “What I need you understand is that you hold very tightly onto people who tend to disappoint you and I’m often the one who has to deal with the aftermath of your broken hopes. You’re aware of how cruel she can be, Zelda.”

“I also know how good she is to me. What is your point, Hilda?”

Lilith’s heart skipped a beat when she finally realized that the two sisters were fighting because of _her_. Nausea clawed at her throat as she considered Hilda’s heated accusations and had to admit to herself that she understood her concerns entirely: she was about the most evil being who had ever set foot in that house – and on that wretched planet, in general – and nothing she could have done would have ever reassured the Spellman clan that her intentions were good. Why should they have believed her, anyway? During her first months as Queen of Hell, after having secured her power over demons and infernal creatures, she’d considered abandoning witches and mortals multiple times and had shown little interest towards the coven up until that point. On top of that, she wasn’t even able to recall all the instances in which she had upset Zelda, intentionally or not. Forcing down bile, she leaned against the wall, desperately wanting to get away from there and erase those last few minutes from her memory, but a small, masochistic part of her needed to hear what Zelda had to say in her defense. If the redhead even chose to defend her, obviously.

“Please, Zelda. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the chaotic state this kitchen was in when you tried to bake that pie the other day and all the floury fingerprints on your clothes.” Hilda continued. “I saw you sneak out of our bedroom like a teenager the other night and you weren’t there when I woke up. Why did you ask her to move in? She might be a silly pastime for you, but she’s our Queen and whatever relationship you may have with her puts us all at risk.”

“Lilith is no childish distraction, sister.” Had voices had the ability to kill, the deadly force of Zelda’s tone would have annihilated Hilda on the spot. “She was my friend, first. Do you understand what I’m saying? I had _no one_. I felt like I couldn’t talk to anyone in this family and she was there, asking nothing of me in return. You have no idea… I didn’t even believe it was possible to help someone with no ulterior motives and care for them as much as Lilith worried about me.”

“We would have been there for you, if you—”

“Yes, but I didn’t, and you weren’t. She was there. It was enough. _She_ was enough.” Zelda sniffled and Lilith wondered if she’d started to tear up. “She was more than enough.”

“This is all very poetic, Zelds, but—”

“In spite of what you might believe, I actually have some common sense and I know this could end badly. However, if it did, I don’t think Lilith would take her wrath out on the rest of you. In the past, maybe, she would have, but not now.” Zelda lowered her tone. “Doctor Cerberus was possessed by an incubus, wasn’t he? Yet, you trust him, because he has learned how to handle himself. How is that different from my… liaison with Lilith?”

The demoness, unsure whether to be grateful for Zelda’s defense or slightly offended that she’d been compared to Hilda’s boyfriend, heard the blonde witch sigh. “It’s not that different, I suppose.” She said, sounding defeated. “I need you to be careful, sister. For Sabrina and Ambrose, but also for yourself. I don’t want her to hurt you like Faustus did, that’s all.” She blew her nose, as if she’d begun to cry.

“Oh, Hildie!”, Zelda exclaimed, and Lilith, still hidden behind the doorframe, almost smiled at the affectionate pet name. “Lilith is no easy creature to deal with, but she’s no Faustus, either. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to ask her to marry me. It’s purely carnal, really.”

“Alright, that’s quite enough! No details needed.”

Had Zelda meant what she’d just said? Did she truly see their affair as something that was merely based on sex and nothing more? Lilith had her doubts, for the tender instants she’d spent with the witch, long before their dramatic first kiss, had felt like something different than the usual want, bigger than the simple desire to sleep together. If the other woman only cared about laying with her, why hadn’t she touched her when she’d first slipped into her bed? Why had she waited until the next morning, choosing to fall asleep next to her instead, their bodies pressed against each other, contented? Perhaps, Zelda was afraid of admitting the vastness of her feelings to her sister – and to herself, too. Lilith, who was constantly terrified of every new emotion that blossomed in her bitter heart, understood that perfectly well.

Not to mention the fact that Zelda had used the word ‘friend’ when talking about her: not once, over the course of her many millennia of existence, had another being ever called her that. To be fair, Lilith hadn’t trusted anyone enough to see her relationship with them as anything more than a mere alliance, which was very different from companionship. Believing herself to be incapable of acting warm and pleasant towards others, the first woman had, unintentionally, been so kind to the redheaded witch that she’d started to see her as a friend. Lilith had spent her whole life thinking that every good deed would have inevitably come with a price, but she’d been loving and gentle with Zelda Spellman for months by that point and she’d barely even noticed it. Maybe, genuine benevolence wasn’t supposed be heavy and caring about people didn’t always feel like a weight she had to carry.

The sound of high-heeled steps slowly approaching startled Lilith out of her silent considerations. Realizing that the argument had ended and that the Spellman sisters were about to leave the kitchen, the demoness hurried towards the foyer, making as little noise as possible. Once she got there, making sure that no one had spotted her, she opened and closed the front door, pretending she’d arrived in that very moment, and cleared her throat. “I’m home!”, she exclaimed, which was strongly unusual, as she never announced her entrance, but she needed to make her sudden arrival look completely believable.

“Oh, Lilith.” Zelda said, coming out of the living room. She was wearing a short golden nightgown and a black robe that made her look rather sophisticated, even with smudged mascara and wet hair. “I thought you weren’t returning until late.”

“I had a long day in Hell and told myself I deserved a break.” Lilith joked, understanding that the woman wasn’t going to tell her about her conversation with her sister – not that night, at least. She knew Hilda was still around, which meant that, even if the entire family was aware of their not-so-innocent affair, Zelda would have denied her any kind of affectionate gesture. “Any plans for tonight?”, she asked, hoping for the witch to hint at a later visit to her nightly quarters.

“Family movie night.” Zelda replied, half-rolling her eyes and disappearing into the other room. “You could join us, if you’d like. Ambrose! Sabrina!”, she added, yelling in the direction of the staircase at her nephew and niece. Lilith went right back into the sitting room, silently accepting the odd invitation, and noticed two big bowls of popcorn she hadn’t seen before, placed next to a large, surprisingly modern television that had been set up in front of the sofa.

“Do you do this often?”, she asked, confused.

“We used to.” Hilda intervened, carrying soft drinks and a trail filled to the brim with appetizing cookies. She looked worn-out, but still greeted her with a smile on her face. “It’s been months since our last movie night, but Sabrina mentioned how much she missed it during breakfast and Zelda and I thought we could all do with a few relaxing hours. Do join us, please! We’ve prepared plenty of food.”

“It sounds… nice, thank you.” Lilith nodded, looking for a trace of anger in Hilda’s expression, yet finding none: it was clear to her, then, that the blonde witch had nothing against her, personally, and simply feared the possibility of her hurting her sister. Lilith couldn’t have possibly blamed her for that. “I’ll sit on the armchair.”

“Nonsense.” Zelda reappeared, a DVD case in her hand, and gently grabbed Lilith’s elbow, leading her to the couch. “Ambrose and Sabrina always sit in the two armchairs. It’s our little tradition, you see.”

“A tradition you started only because the sofa is far more comfortable.” Hilda specified.

“Busted.” Zelda smirked, inserting the disk into the DVD player next to the screen. Sabrina arrived shortly after, already wearing her pyjamas, while Ambrose’s elegant outfit led Lilith to think that he was likely going to sneak out and hang out at Dorian’s Gray Room the second the credits had started rolling. Making herself comfortable on the old couch, Lilith grabbed a can of Fanta – as Sabrina had introduced her to the sparkling mortal drink and she’d enjoyed its fizzy flavor right away – and waited for the movie to begin.

“What are we watching?”, Sabrina asked, yawning quietly.

“Auntie Zee is forcing us to sit through The Devil Wears Prada. _Again_.” Ambrose answered, in a tone that made it apparent that he didn’t particularly agree with his aunt’s cinematic choices. “I suggested Pulp Fiction, but it looks like we’re living under a dictatorship and my suggestions are ignored before they even leave my mouth.”

“How dare you!”, Zelda scolded him, teasingly. “The Devil Wears Prada is a masterpiece. Besides, until you move out and get a television of your own, you’ll have no say in the matter.”

“I wouldn’t mind trying something new.” Hilda commented, but the look Zelda shot her made her change her mind. “I mean… It _is_ a good movie, absolutely! One of my favorites, actually. Maybe you can choose the next one, Ambrose.”

“Whatever.” The young warlock mumbled, biting into a chocolate cookie.

“Aunt Zelda has a _tiny_ crush on Miranda Priestly.” Sabrina whispered in Lilith’s ear, suppressing a burst of laughter. Lilith, who had never even heard of such picture, had no idea who Miranda Priestly was, but, as soon as the striking white-haired woman appeared on the screen, she had to accept that she was, indeed, Zelda’s type: cold-hearted, powerful, with a hidden soft side not easily reachable. The demoness didn’t want to think about how much the editor-in-chief of Satan-knew-what magazine reminded her of herself.

Halfway through the film, Zelda, who was sitting between her sister and Lilith, allowed her head to rest on the first woman’s shoulder, letting out a long breath. Positively shocked by the motion, convinced that Zelda must have been losing her mind, as the rest of her family was still in the room and could have noticed the gesture, Lilith tensed up, focusing on the television in front of her. Casting a furtive glance at Hilda, she saw that the younger witch’s eyes were closed and wondered if she had drifted off to sleep. Calmer, then, she cautiously laid a kiss on top of Zelda’s head, lightly stroking her ginger hair. In response, the witch took Lilith’s left hand into her own and set it down on her stomach, partially burying her face in the hollow between the demoness’ neck and shoulder. The babe was moving and Lilith could sense its occasional taps on her palm. Zelda sighed again, her sweet breath tickling Lilith’s skin, and placed an half-empty bowl of popcorns on the ground.

Both afraid of what would have happened if Sabrina and Ambrose had turned around and found them sitting like that and moved by the small act of closeness, Lilith leaned softly against the other woman. “Are you sure this is alright? They could see us.” She said, and felt stupid for having done so, for Zelda was capable of calculating the risks of her own decisions, but the remote possibility of getting the woman into trouble made her uneasy.

“I don’t care.” Zelda whispered back, leaving a silent kiss on her lover’s cheek. “Are you enjoying the movie?”

“I am.” Lilith said, even if, to tell the truth, she’d stopped paying attention to the plot about half an hour after the film had started. Less anxious as the minutes passed by, Lilith allowed herself to sink deeper into the sofa, Zelda’s head still resting on her shoulder. After a while, muffled snoring sounds started to come from both Spellman sisters and Lilith saw that their tiredness had gotten the better of them. Careful as not to wake the sleeping redhead next to her, she laid a blanket over the three of them, as the night air was still chilly, and felt somewhat protected by it, as if she were allowed to hold Zelda’s hand a little bit tighter under the warm quilt, stroking the pad of her thumb up and over its back. Weeks before, when she’d sat on that same couch for the first time, Zelda’s legs stretched over her thighs, she would have never imagined that, one day, she would have been able to kiss her on the top of her head, feeling her babe’s light kicks, watching a picture she was sure she would have enjoyed if she’d actually listened to what the characters were saying. Satisfied, full of good, gentle things, she felt her sight blur, her thoughts dancing incongruously around her worn-out mind. Before she’d even had the time to realize it, she, too, had blissfully fallen asleep.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise you I haven’t abandoned this work! Uni has been kicking my ass lately and I’m in the middle of a devastating exam session, but I’m definitely still working on this fic. I have three or four more chapters planned, so this story won’t be over for at least another month. After that, who knows! In the meantime, I hope you will enjoy this chapter and forgive me if I won’t be able to keep updating weekly (I’ll try my best, though). See you soon!

“Did you bake this thing yourself?”

“Mock me and I will kick you out of this house so fast that it will make your head spin.” Zelda sneered, cleaning her hands on a bright and colorful apron that undoubtedly belonged to her sister. “Hilda always cooks for us and I wanted to do something nice for her birthday, tomorrow. Well, I _tried_ to, anyway.”

“I don’t know much about cakes, but this one actually seems edible. Besides, it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it?”, Lilith commented, joining Zelda on the other side of the kitchen isle and stopping to observe the witch’s latest culinary creation. Gently, she wrapped her arms around her waist, feeling her growing bump. “What did you put on top of it? It looks like dust. Crunchy dust.”

“It’s _coconut_.” Zelda replied, sounding offended, but still leaning lightly against the first woman. “Unlike the last time you interrupted me as I was baking, I finally managed to create something fit to be eaten. I think so, at least. If no one promptly pukes their guts out after dinner, I will consider it a personal win.”

“You didn’t mind my interruption too much the other day, if I remember correctly.”

Zelda smirked, reaching for something in the cabinet under the kitchen sink. Realizing that the witch was looking for a scrap of fabric with which to clean up the mess she’d produced, Lilith grabbed an old rag and began to scrub the floury table, Zelda’s eyes focused on her. “I’m not incapable of bending down to pick up a piece of cloth, Lilith.” She pointed out, taking off her apron and smoothing down her black summer dress: the weather was getting progressively warmer and her usual long-sleeved clothes were unsuitable for the heat and humidity. “But thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Lilith attempted to mask a grin, wetting the rag with running water, but a worried expression crossed her face when Zelda sat down on a chair and sighed audibly.

Almost three weeks had passed since the last time they’d had news of Blackwood – if finding out where the twins were hidden without possibly rescuing them even counted as progress – and the mixture of pregnancy troubles and general anxieties was taking a toll on the redhead, even if she tried her best to conceal it. If it had been up to Zelda, Lilith often thought, she would have given birth in that instant, bending the laws of nature only to be finally done with that whole situation, but biology had other plans and the Spellman matriarch had another long trimester ahead of her. Lilith desperately wanted to make her life easier, doing little tasks for her – getting her cold drinks from the kitchen on particularly hot afternoons, for example, but also small, insignificant favors, such as picking up items when they fell on the floor and brushing her hair when she was too tired to do it herself – but Zelda frequently took those gestures as personal offences and did everything on her own to prove that she could do it all, panting and whining the entire time. On such occasions, Lilith had to be careful not to lose her temper and yell at the other woman that it would have been perfectly fine if she, like every other human and witch in the world, had wanted to be taken care of, too. But Zelda was always Zelda, come rain or shine, and Lilith most certainly did not have the power to change her – not that she would have wanted to, anyway, as she’d long stopped her attempts at manipulating people and had slowly started to listen to them, instead.

As for the rest of the Spellman family, if they’d truly pieced together the full extent of the relationship between the two women, they were doing a decent job at hiding it: still, Lilith never failed to notice the sly glances Ambrose and Sabrina exchanged when Zelda casually let her hand rest on the demoness’ thigh and the curious combination of delight and slight embarrassment that shone in Hilda’s eyes when her sister came downstairs for breakfast, joyfully singing French melodies and complaining about how hungry she was, after a night spent in the guest bedroom. To Lilith, those amused and thankful looks felt like a kind of acceptance: the whole family had recognized their unexpected liaison and they had accepted it, welcoming Lilith into their home and, perhaps, reserving her a small space in their own hearts. Spending every waking moment with the Spellmans without giving into the primal need to murder Sabrina and bury her in the Cain Pit was no mean feat, but the young girl was frequently at the Academy of Unseen Arts, studying for her final examinations, while Hilda worked all day at Cerberus Books and Ambrose usually minded his own business somewhere else, so the occasions in which they were all together weren’t as common as Lilith had initially feared and most of them were, in all truth, close to enjoyable. Not that she would have ever admitted that out loud, clearly.

“What in Heaven are you cooking up in that mischievous mind of yours?”

“What?”, Lilith snapped out of her reverie, turning her head towards Zelda. “Oh, nothing. I’m only appreciating your delicious dust-covered cake. After having spent centuries fighting against atrocious menaces, I wonder if this will be the thing that eventually kills me.”

“You’re _hilarious_ , Lilith.” Zelda commented, accepting a chaste kiss on the cheek from the smirking demoness. “I, however, am completely serious. I would like to know what you’re thinking about. You always zone off into space and I can’t tell if you’re planning Armageddon or simply reminiscing about your past lovers.”

“Someone is jealous.” Lilith taunted her: she most definitely didn’t want to confess to Zelda that, nine point nine times out of ten, whenever she caught her staring at nothing in particular, she was thinking about her. “Baby names.” She blurted out, unsure why she’d chosen that specific topic. “Assuming the babe you’re carrying will not be an ‘it’ forever, naturally. That can’t be too good for children, correct? Not having a name, I mean. Look at what happened to that Itt fellow from The Addams Family.”

“Did you acquire such incredible parenting knowledge from one of your many pregnancy manuals?”, the redhead snorted, evidently not believing Lilith’s lie, but choosing to go along with it. “It has to be Faustus if it’s a boy, of course.”

Lilith’s heart skipped several beats before she realized that the other woman was merely joking and she was overcome with unanticipated relief when her brain registered that Zelda, for the first time since the two of them had grown close, had been able to crack a joke about her former husband. “Incredibly funny.” She smiled, mindlessly stroking the witch’s freckled arm. “Lucifera if it’s a girl, then?”

“Sure.” Zelda smiled back, faintly rolling her eyes. “If you really want to know, I like the name Phiona. It’s my middle name and I would want to pass it onto a child. Problem is, it was also my mother’s name and I wasn’t exactly her biggest fan, to say the least.”

The demoness, who had never known anything remotely close to maternal love and thought familial relationships to be beyond her field of experience, nodded and waited for Zelda to add something, expecting a clarification of sorts, but the much anticipated details never came. Lilith considered, then, that some things were, perhaps, meant to be left unsaid and their silent weight was more eloquent than any form of explanation. “I’m not exactly an expert, but did Shakespeare not say that a rose would smell just as sweet, even if it had another name?”, Lilith attempted to reassure her. “The names we give people and things don’t affect who and what they become. I think Phiona sounds lovely.” She forced herself to say, even if she found the name to be somewhat outdated: during her stay in that pitiful land, however, she’d learned that, sometimes, when one truly loved another, they had to tell little, well-intentioned lies, which did not, in the great scheme of things, count as dishonesty.

“You do have a way with words, Lilith. Even if you tend to steal them from dead playwrights.” Zelda said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I shall mull over it. I haven’t given it much thought, honestly, but I’ve considered other options. I also like—”, she tried to speak, but was interrupted by the piercing sound of the telephone ringing in the other room. “Hilda! The phone!”, she yelled, but received no answer from her sister.

“She’s probably in the embalming room.” Lilith suggested. “Do you want me to get it?”

“I absolutely do not.” Zelda cut her off, leaving the kitchen. “I don’t need you to fuel any gossip trains, as we have yet to come clean about our… cohabitation agreement. What if it were someone from the Academy? Most of the staff thinks you’re here only a few nights a week, working late. Imagine if Sister Mathilde were calling and expected me to pick up, but heard your tone in lieu of my own. That gorgon would have a stroke.” Zelda reproached her, reaching for the receiver. “Not that I would mind it _that_ much.”

The mother of demons sucked in her cheeks, admittedly entertained by Zelda’s unrestrained meanness towards her colleagues. She watched as the witch picked up the phone, convinced that it was going to be another crying widow phoning the Spellman sisters for burial arrangements or one of Sabrina’s mortal teachers looking for her aunts, ready to complain about the child’s low attendance or a science experiment gone terribly wrong. Instead, Zelda’s face turned pale at once and, when the woman’s hands began to shake, Lilith understood that something awful had surely happened. “What is it?”, she inquired, but Zelda wasn’t listening to her, focusing on whatever the person on the other end of the line was telling her.

“How is she? Is she conscious?”, the redhead asked, her voice trembling. After a brief pause, during which Lilith’s chest had started to rise and fall rapidly, aching with anxiety, she spoke again. “I will be there in a minute. Don’t do a single thing until then. No, not even a ‘simple healing spell’, for Satan’s sake! I need to assess the situation.” She added, aggressively hanging up.

“What is going—”

“No time. Sabrina has been hurt and we need to get to the Academy. Hilda!”, Zelda shouted, waiting for the blonde witch to reply. “Hilda, where the Heaven are you?”

“I’m down here!”, a muffled voice replied from down the stairs. “Is everything alright?”

“Something happened to Sabrina. Teleport yourself to the Academy, right now!”, Zelda replied, unable to control the tremor in her limbs. Snapping her fingers, she tried to transport both herself and Lilith from the mansion to the school building, but the motion proved ineffective and her own magic seemed to have failed her. Three additional unsuccessful attempts later, the witch buried her hands in her ginger hair, taking in long breaths in order to compose herself. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me! Why is the bloody spell not working?”

“Everything is fine, Zelda. You’re tired.” Lilith comforted her, but, in truth, she wasn’t sure of it: Blackwood, inhabiting Agatha’s body, had warned the coven about the possible weakening of their magical powers and the demoness, heart filled with worry, wondered if the evil warlock’s words had been true, after all. Regardless, in that moment, she had more important matters to take care of – even if she did not quite know what they were. “I’ll do it. Grab my wrist.” She added, muttering an incantation that immediately transferred their physical forms to the empty main hall of the Academy.

* * *

The following instants felt like a confused blur, which started to clear up the moment Lilith’s mind managed to make out Sabrina’s unresponsive figure, lying motionless on the old sofa in her office, her clothes stained with what looked like fresh blood: seconds after they had arrived at the school, as Lilith later recalled, Zelda had spotted Brother Cecil in a corridor and the man had told them to get to the top floor as soon as possible. Not wasting any time with useless questions, Zelda had rapidly made her way to the principal’s room, followed by the first woman, but, reaching the door and seeing her niece in such a frightening state, the witch had felt faint. Thankfully, Lilith was right behind her and had caught her in time, supporting her as she approached the couch, sitting next to the young girl.

Once Zelda had fully recovered, she started barking at Sister Gertrude, who was patting Sabrina’s forehead with a wet towel, while stroking her niece’s cold cheek. “What in the name of Satan happened to her? Is that… Is that _blood_?”, she asked, staring at the child’s shirt, her face losing color. “Sabrina, what’s going on? Who did this to you? And where is Hilda? Why is Hilda not here?”

Hilda had not, in fact, appeared next to them in the foyer. Had she been unable to teleport herself, exactly like Zelda? Lilith wanted to swat away all thoughts of magical deterioration, as she had bigger things to worry about. Besides, the previous evening she’d witnessed Hilda summon the shadow of a great dog in order to scare Salem off and prevent him from unearthing the bulbs she’d just planted in the garden beds, while Zelda had performed a quick healing spell after she’d accidentally sliced her thumb with a kitchen knife: if they’d been able to complete such enchantments hours earlier, there was no reason for her to worry. Still, Lilith couldn’t push the concern from her mind. She crouched down, putting a hand on the small of Zelda’s back, looking at Sabrina with pitiful eyes. “How are you, Sabrina? Can you tell us anything?”, she whispered, noticing that the witch appeared to be receptive, despite her disheveled outer shell.

“Blackwood…”, the girl whispered back, and Lilith felt Zelda’s entire body tense up. Experiencing a flash of panic herself, the demoness scooted closer to Sabrina and her aunt, waiting for the young woman to continue speaking. “He attacked me. I was in the library, researching… I didn’t see him coming… I don’t know…”, she paused and took in a deep breath, which was interrupted by a coughing fit that lasted nearly a minute.

“I can’t believe that that bastard entered the school, at last.” Zelda commented, suppressing a sob. “I knew we should have set up better defense measures. We should have done _more_.”

“We did everything in our power to prevent this, Zelda. Those protection charms were the very best ones we could have crafted. If he went past them, somehow, there must be something else going on. Something bigger.” The demoness considered, upset by the menacing tone of her own words: she could have said something to comfort the witch, of course, but, by then, it was evident that things weren’t going as smoothly as they had both hoped for and there was no point in lying to Zelda, who was no ingenuous creature. Fighting rage and fear, Lilith turned towards the other teacher. “Have you checked her wounds? Is she badly hurt?”

“She’s not injured, actually.” Sister Gertrude said, bowing her head in Lilith’s direction, then focusing on Zelda’s preoccupied gaze. “She’s only weak. It almost looks like a blood transfusion gone wrong, but I don’t see how that could be possible. Why would he ever do something like that?”

“A… blood transfusion?”, Lilith asked, her thoughts spinning furiously.

“He… He paralyzed me with some sort of curse. I wanted to fight back, but he caught me by surprise and I… I couldn’t move, but I could feel everything.” Sabrina continued, visibly on the verge of crying. “He had this odd-looking vial with him and a…”, she swallowed, pausing for a moment. “He had a huge metal needle and, Auntie Zee, you know I have a fear of those, and I couldn’t do anything, and… And then Sister Gertrude opened the door because she was looking for a book, but when she came in, he was gone, and there was blood everywhere… I tried to stop him, Auntie, I really did…”

“Oh, I know, love.” Zelda exclaimed, hugging her niece, her own face wet with tears. “I need you to know that this isn’t your fault. I couldn’t protect you and for that I am sorry. I failed you, Sabrina. Can you forgive me?”

“No, you didn’t… You don’t…”, Sabrina tried to protest, but the knot in her throat prevented her from speaking and she simply sat there, sobbing silently, comforted by her aunt’s familiar shape and her calming voice. Lilith observed the scene, moved by their intimacy, but something about that situation was nagging at her, dancing around the edge of her consciousness, and being unable to figure out what it was irritated her to no end. Blackwood had gotten past their safety measures, which had been renewed several times since the day he’d infiltrated the school through Agatha’s possessed body: no mortal or witching being could have ever managed to undo the banishing spells Lilith had cast and that consideration made her bones feel as if they’d turned to water, for it meant that something – _someone_ – extraordinarily powerful had been helping the former High Priest all along.

“She’s lucky I arrived right after it had happened.” Sister Gertrude commented, turned towards Zelda. “I truly do not understand what is going on. Why would Blackwood need Sabrina’s blood?”

“How would I know that, Gertrude?”, Zelda snapped, grimacing. “My niece has just been attacked and she’s covered in her own _blood_. Don’t you think I would share any useful piece of information with the rest of you, if I happened to know more about the situation? Seriously, am I the only one with a functioning brain around here?”, she ranted, still holding Sabrina in her arms and cradling her softly. “And _where_ is Hilda, for Hell’s sake?”

As if on cue, the blonde woman entered the room, looking flustered. “I’m… I’m here… I’m sorry, the teleportation spell didn’t—”, she panted, clutching her chest at the sight of her wounded niece. “What— Oh, bloody Heaven, what is happening here?”

“Wouldn’t we all want to know?”, the redhead said, sarcasm seeping into her tone. “Blood magic? Mysterious transfusions? Blackwood attempting to drain Sabrina of all her energies? Could be anything, really!”

“ _Oh_.” Lilith gasped, a sudden light going on in her head. She brought a hand to her mouth, preventing her shock from jumping out from her throat in a scream. “Oh, no. No, this is impossible. I don’t… Oh, no, no, no!”

“What?”, Zelda yelled, gripping the first woman’s arm with such force that it made her wonder if she was going to end up with a broken bone before the day’s end. Staring into the other witch’s eyes, Lilith saw nothing but fury and dread in them. “Care to _fucking_ explain, Lilith?”

“Zelda, I don’t think Blackwood needs Sabrina’s blood. Well, not for himself.” Lilith explained, but trepidation was fluttering in her stomach and she felt as if she were about to be sick. “I never considered… It is a possibility, but a very far-fetched one and there would be a great deal of risk involved. I don’t even know if it would be faisible—”

“Spit it out, Lilith!”, Zelda roared, tears resuming their slow descent down her crimson cheeks. Hilda had placed herself on the sofa and was kissing her niece’s head, squeezing her tightly, while both Sister Gertrude and the young witch stared at Lilith with unease.

“I fear Satan may be the one who needs Sabrina’s blood, as she is his sole heir. I think Blackwood is plotting to bring him back in his corporeal form.” Lilith said, her voice breaking. “And I believe he’s getting close to it.” She added, unable to look at Zelda Spellman in the eyes: right then, the warlock’s plan seemed almost obvious to her, but why hadn’t she been able to figure it out sooner? It all added up: the ingredients stolen from the herbology laboratory, a student showing signs of demonic possession, Blackwood’s ability to enter magically shielded property, the two newborns – deemed not powerful enough for the completion of the spell – left in the care of a stranger. If her deductions were correct, she had to act fast, for Zelda and her babe were also in danger. Ignoring everyone’s loud protests and inquiries, she stormed out of the room, headed towards the Academy’s library, where she was sure to find the right tome to clear up her last doubts and reveal their fate.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Apologies for the delay, it’s been a rough couple of weeks. Just as a heads-up, there will be mentions of abuse in this chapter and a (brief) display of violence which will involve Lilith and Zelda. If you’d prefer to avoid that part, you could still read the first half and then skip to the last few sentences. That’s all, enjoy!

By the time she’d stepped foot inside the Academy’s library, Lilith had almost forgotten the details of Sabrina’s gory encounter with Blackwood and she certainly wasn’t expecting to spot a small pool of dried blood as she entered the room. The irony smell that hit her nostrils would have once made her mouth salivate, as, despite her attempts to blend in with witches and mortals, she was, unquestionably, still an infernal creature, but, in that moment, it merely amplified her sense of dread and made her think of the young witch, of the fear she must have felt, the utter helplessness that must have come from going through that horrible experience all on her own. Satan in Hell, she then thought to herself, was she truly going soft for that unbearable little imp? Zelda’s proximity was slowly turning her into a watered-down version of an overprotective mother goose and Lilith did not care for that part of their relationship.

Steering clear of the dried blood, she restored her composure and went straight for one specific shelf, where she was certain to find the book she was looking for. Indeed, after a couple of seconds, she resurfaced with a large, ancient tome, covered in dust and half-eaten by woodworms. Thumbing rapidly through its pages, she hoped for her suppositions to be false: surely, there must have been other explanations for everything that had been happening. After all, coincidences occurred all the time, didn’t they? Yet, she’d managed to put together the pieces of that terrible puzzle in such a precise way that only a fool would have denied the truth that was, by then, standing openly in front of her. And Lilith had been called many, many names over the course of her life, but a fool had never been one of them.

Once she’d reached the paragraph she was searching for, Lilith started to read, so carefully that one could have thought her to be afraid of the letters flying out of the page if she didn’t immediately catch them all. She scanned the text without making a sound, as confused voices rose in the background, followed by the creaking of the door opening. “Lilith?”, Zelda’s hoarse, familiar voice inquired, filled with worry. “Lilith, where are you?”

“In here!”, Lilith shouted back, not lifting her gaze from the old book. She heard Hilda’s concerned tone, too, as well as Sabrina’s, as the girl had surprisingly been able to drag herself to the library, but the first woman was too focused on what she was reading to pay attention to them. As her brain processed the faded words on the discolored paper in front of her, nausea and guilt twisted in her gut and she wondered whether it was, indeed, too late to change the course of their fight against Blackwood.

“What the f—”, Zelda started to exclaim, having found Lilith half-hidden behind a tall shelf, but the demoness was quicker and grabbed her arm, surprising the witch and preventing her from finishing her profanity. In the few instants that preceded Hilda’s arrival, followed by the other two witches, Lilith attempted to find a word – or, better, several sentences – of sorry, for she felt as if, in a way, she’d been the cause of that whole chaos: the idea of overthrowing Satan and obtaining his throne had been hers and, despite her apparent superior abilities, she hadn’t been able to protect her loyal servants – especially the ones she’d come to consider more than mere subjects. Unfortunately, as it often happened when one was looking for an excuse, an explanation, a request for forgiveness, Lilith’s mind felt emptied, dazed with shock, and all she did was exchange a remorseful glance with the other woman, swiftly stroking her wrist before the others arrived, praying for that action to be perceived, at least, as the beginning of an apology.

Zelda looked confused, her eyebrows arched, her eyes wet and round. Lilith wanted to touch her, hold her, keep her safe, but she knew too well that she couldn’t. Once the rest of the group had arrived, the demoness sighed and began to speak, bracing herself for the inevitable. “My theory is right.” She said, amazed by the firmness of her voice, as she was feeling anything but stable. “I should have realized this sooner. I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Zelda said, her own tone quieter than usual. Lilith wondered if she’d meant that. “Please, tell us what the Heaven is happening. What has Blackwood done?”

“He hasn’t done anything irrecoverable. _Yet_ , at least.” Lilith specified. “But he’s planning to. You see, what tipped me off was the talk of blood transfusion. There is no reason why he would need that for himself, is there? So, clearly, it must be something else. This made me think of an old ritual, which I’ve never seen performed, personally, but I have heard of countless humans and warlocks who have tried it and failed, miserably.”

“What kind of ritual?”, Sabrina asked. Hilda wrapped her arms comfortably around her niece, not bothered by the bloodstains on her clothes. The gesture, so maternal and naturally kind, greatly increased Lilith’s secret self-condemnation.

“We all know that there are ways to willfully let demons take control of one’s body, correct? What you also have to remember is that there used to be primordial spells one could cast to let gods inhabit one’s corporeal form, as well.” Lilith explained, hiding the trembling of her hands. “Take the Greeks, for example: surely, gods tended to possess innocent creatures without their consent, but there were occasions in which a person, craving greatness and strength, would allow a deity to have complete power over their body, effectively controlling it. It would usually work in ancient times because men were purer back then, less affected by—”

“Is that what…”, Zelda tried to say, cutting Lilith off, but the words initially died in her throat. “Is that what Faustus is trying to do? Let a god inhabit his rotten flesh?”

“I fear he might have done that already.” Lilith admitted, not finding the courage to meet the redhead’s eye. “That’s how he successfully controlled Agatha, which is also the reason why we couldn’t trace him using Prudence’s blood and he had the ability to go past our defense measures, too. He’s _inside_ him, right now, but that’s not enough.”

“You mean… Satan?”, Zelda croaked, leaning on her sister for support.

“Not enough? What else does he want to do?”, Sabrina asked.

“Yes, Lucifer.” Lilith confirmed, licking her dry lips. “Blackwood must have performed a less effective version of that same ritual, using all the supplies he tried to steal from the Academy’s laboratory, which he must have found somewhere else, but Satan has been incredibly feeble ever since his defeat and Faustus’ body alone must not be good enough for him. That explains why he needs your blood, Sabrina. Which he now has, as proven by the weakening of your magical abilities, but it won’t be sufficient.”

“What does he need, then?”, asked Sister Gertrude, who, up until that point, had been inaudibly shaking in a corner, her stunned eyes reminding Lilith of the ones of a plump, frightened guinea pig.

“I don’t think Satan actually knew about this part of the incantation, at first. Something tells me that Blackwood didn’t, either.” Lilith said, pointing at the book in front of her. “This is one of the few tomes in the world that talk about the spell in depth. Lucifer has never been one for books and I doubt that Blackwood, had he actually known about it, would have had the nerve to correct his master when he explained his scheme to him, which means that they weren’t aware of the fact that innate supernatural skills play a big role in this whole thing. They also need to strengthen Faustus’ physical form, which they probably attempted to do using the twins’ vital force, but—”

Lilith was interrupted by Zelda’s loud gasp and she noticed that the witch had brought a hand to her mouth, open in a quiet scream. The demoness continued, trying not to think of the devastating effects that her verdict was going to have on the other woman. “As I was saying, we can only assume that Blackwood eventually realized that his newborns weren’t sufficiently strong and then left them with Morgana, where they are safe, but frail. This was after Agatha’s possession, if we want to reconstruct a timeline. We know that because…”, she paused, her stomach cramping inside Mary Wardwell’s mortal form, wishing there were another, better interpretation to present to them, but finding none. “We know that because he said that he wouldn’t have claimed the child Zelda is carrying. I believe, however, that the babe might be exactly what he needs. I fear he knows that, by now. Either that, or he said it to deceive us, hoping we wouldn’t figure out his plan in time.”

“In time for what?”, Hilda half-whispered.

“Its birth.” Lilith swallowed hard, her throat like a desert. “He hasn’t targeted Prudence because he’s aware that she wouldn’t be potent enough, but…”, she hesitated, letting her gaze stop on Zelda, whose face was ashen as she glared back at her. “Zelda, do you remember accusing me of solely caring about your child’s potentialities?”

“Oh.” Zelda whimpered: the demoness should not have brought back the memory of one of their many arguments, but it had been the easiest way to help the other woman understand the gravity of the situation. “You mean… He wants… He…”, she muttered, bringing a hand to her belly.

“I think so.” Lilith said, convinced her heart had broken in that instant, watching fear surge through the redheaded witch. “On the bright side, however, we finally solved the puzzle and discovered what he intends to do. The ritual can only be performed on very precise stages of the lunar cycle and, thankfully, your babe isn’t due anytime soon, which means we’ll have time to prepare. Satan may be cruel and conniving, but I can be much worse. I’m not exactly sure of what we can do, yet, but a rather archaic incantation comes to mind and—”

“On the… _On the bright side_?”, Zelda clearly hadn’t listened past Lilith’s poorly-chosen initial expression. “Of course you would say that! This is all a hobby for you, isn’t it? You’ve been through ordeals far worse than this one and you consider it a mere pasttime, as it doesn’t really matter whether we win this fight or the entire coven gets slaughtered.” She spat, her cheeks growing red.

“Come on, Zelds. That’s not fair.” Hilda tried to intervene, but her words had been so quiet that Lilith wasn’t completely sure that she hadn’t imagined her intrusion: perhaps, feeling cornered and unjustly attacked, she had simply wished that Hilda had stood up for her, in order to make her feel less alone in front of Zelda Spellman’s ire.

“Even if this does end badly for you, you can always run away, can’t you? Abandon us, let us die, find someone else imprudent enough to worship you. That’s what you do all the time, anyway.” The witch continued, inching closer to her Queen, menacingly. “How can you treat this as if it were some riddle you have to crack? Our lives – my own, the ones of my family, of this Satan-forsaken child – are on the line and you make it seem as if it were just some silly competition between you and Lucifer. But let me tell you something, Lilith: we’re not your pawns and this isn’t your macabre, deadly game of chess against your bloodthirsty lover. You don’t get to play with us. You don’t get to play with _me_.”

“We have been over this many times already, Zelda.” Lilith said, sternly, but felt ill: sadness and despair had traveled through her when the woman had talked about Lucifer as if he’d ever treated her with anything but violence and contempt, reaching every cell, every interstice of her body. And how in the name of all evil beings, she wondered, did Zelda _still_ not trust her? Where had those accusations come from? Feeling a deep, aching hollowness in her chest, she attempted to approach the Spellman matriarch, moving slowly in her direction, but Zelda drew away from her.

“You were right, Hilda. I should have listened to you.” She said, turning towards the blonde witch, as Sister Gertrude and Sabrina stared at each other with confused expressions – they knew nothing of the conversation that had taken place between the two women mere days before, as Lilith silently eavesdropped just outside the Spellmans’ kitchen. “I seem to keep making the same mistakes, over and over again.”

“That was uncalled for.” Lilith replied, for there was no point in hiding that she knew what the redhead had meant. “I do care about you and the coven, and—”

“Please.” Zelda interrupted her. “Save your excuses for someone who might actually fall for them.” She concluded, leaving the library as hurriedly as she’d come in.

Hilda started to follow her, but Lilith blocked her, squeezing her shoulder. “Let me talk to her.” She said, already walking behind Zelda: the witch had stormed out on her far more times than she would have been able to count and she wasn’t going to let her get away with it again. She was sick of being treated like a possible deserter each time she and the other woman had a discussion, especially after she’d proven to her multiple times that she was always going to stand by her side: though she was neither faithful nor loyal by nature, the rules of her own general conduct did not apply when it came to Zelda Spellman. It was a wretched, destructive truth: she would have done anything for the redheaded woman she’d come to love and her distrust had felt as if a hot coal had been placed on the demoness’ chest, burning the deepest parts of her soul.

Reaching her side before she’d begun to descend the staircase, Lilith put a hand on Zelda’s upper arm, but the witch immediately pulled away. “What?”, she asked, irritated, almost making the first woman wonder if _she_ was the one who should have apologized to her, instead of it being the other way around.

“What do you think?”, Lilith answered her question with another one, straightening her back. “Why did you behave like that? What in Heaven have I done to you?”

“Oh, was I not clear enough?”, Zelda sneered, evidently resisting the urge to light a cigarette. “I loathe the way you talk about our atrocious circumstances, as if defending us were nothing but a ridiculous school project for you. Weren’t you the one who thought our measures to be safe enough and didn’t want to improve them? Didn’t I beg you to look for more powerful protection enchantments, as you didn’t truly believe us to be in any danger?”

“Yes, but that was before—”

“I don’t give a rat’s arse when that was, Lilith!”, Zelda yelled, as the veins on her neck began to throb. “It shows that you care about your little games more than you think about our safety. I should have realized that I was just a childish amusement for you, but I’m a stupid, pathetic woman who looks for love in all the wrong places.”

Lilith’s chest tightened, nausea swirling, unrestrained, inside her. “Zelda, I went looking for protective incantations in _Scotland_ for you. I wanted to torture Agatha to extort a confession, but you stopped me, didn’t you? I would strangle Blackwood with my bare hands, if he—”

“But yours are all empty promises!”, Zelda shouted, her voice growing louder with each word. “All of them. Sabrina and Ambrose found the twins, most of the charms we used to guard the Academy were discovered by the other professors, but what did _you_ do, in the meantime? You’re a demon, for Hell’s sake! The most influential evil creature of all time and you still couldn’t prevent any of this. When we prayed to Satan, at least—”

“Don’t say that.” Lilith’s voice cracked, as did her heart. “Don’t compare me to him.”

“How could I not? When he was King of Hell, everyone was safe. We were great and mighty, and look at us now! Hilda and I couldn’t even teleport ourselves to this awful place. A simple teleportation spell, Lilith!”

“You can’t blame all of this on me, Zelda. You played your part in this, too.”

“Whatever do you mean?”, Zelda asked, approaching the demoness.

“Why did you marry him, Zelda?”, Lilith barked, pearls of sweat covering her forehead: she could have said many things to Zelda in that moment, but, forgetting all her good intentions, she chose the one that would have hurt her the most. “For control? Glory? Did you plan on causing his downfall, taking his place, idiotically imagining that you would not have had to pay a price for it? If you’d been more careful, less cunning, you wouldn’t be in this situation. None of us would be. Your niece wouldn’t have been half-killed by your husband this very morning. So, please, do tell me: was it worth it, _Mrs. Blackwood_?”

The hot, painful sensation hit Lilith’s cheek before her mind had even registered the sight of Zelda’s hand cracking across her face: the slap had been unexpected, violent, and one of the woman’s rings had left a small cut under her left eye. The smack had hurt, of course: the action itself, however, had been even more excruciating, as it brought back memories of other, far more sadistic acts of cruelty she had been forced to endure. Lilith had certainly thought Zelda to be capable of such an aggressive conduct when it came to unruly students, or, perhaps, even her own disobeying niece: strangely enough, she’d never anticipated that, one day, the witch would have touched her with anything other than gentleness. Staggering backwards, clutching her sore cheek, Lilith felt vulnerable, helpless, betrayed.

Zelda had noticed her reaction. “You were… I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…”, she tried to justify herself, touching Lilith’s shoulder.

It was Lilith’s turn to pull away, then. “Don’t you ever hit me again.” She said, once a few seconds of debilitating silence had passed. “You can yell at me, scream your head off, throw all the insults you can think of, but if you touch me like you just did one more time, whatever it is that has been going on between the two of us will be over.” She was surprised by the strength of her own voice: she’d been mistreated and abused for far too long in the past and she wasn’t going to let anyone treat her like that anymore – not even Zelda Spellman. “I shouldn’t have called you that. I apologize. But don’t lay a hand on me again.”

“I’m… I’m sorry…”, Zelda muttered, letting her fingers rest on the back of Lilith’s hands. The demoness let her, for she was tired of arguing, of struggling, of constantly feeling as if she were walking on razor blades, on cutting glass, bumping into sharp corners and unnecessary quarrels. She cupped Zelda’s face, staring deeply into her eyes, and not a single sound left their mouths for a very long time, because it was true that, despite it being often seen as a mere cheesy cliché, looks could, on occasion, communicate much more than any sentence ever produced.

“I’m so ashamed.” Zelda talked again, at last, grimacing. “That wasn’t me. That’s not who I am. Well, it _was_ , but I really do want to change. I’m no longer killing Hilda and burying her in the Cain Pit, nor streaking teenagers across the face when they blabber too loudly in class. And I should have never, _ever_ done that to you. I’m sorry.”

“I know, Zelda. We both have a lot to unlearn.” Lilith admitted, not forgetting the brutalities she’d committed long before her first encounter with the other woman and her appalling family. “I forgive you, but as I said, there will be no third chance.”

“Yes.” Zelda said, clasping the demoness’ hands. “And the things I said… I didn’t… Forget them, please. They were said in anger and fear, but none of that was genuine. I could write an endless list of your offenses, but not doing your best to shield us from evil wouldn’t be on it.”

“Thank you.” Lilith said, letting out a breath: the pain within her had subsided and the feeling of Zelda’s soft palms on her own was so soothing that it nearly made her forget about her previous discoveries. “I have no doubt that we can defeat Blackwood, but you will have to trust me. Do you think you could ever do that?”

Zelda lowered her gaze, then closed her eyes, breathing softly. “Yes.” She whispered. “Yes, I can. I will.” She said, and, that one time, Lilith believed her.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The weather’s currently hot as hellfire in my country, which gives me an excuse to procrastinate and write a bit with a cooling fan pointed directly at my face. This story is nearing its end, but I’m already thinking of writing a series of one-shots or something similar (I grew fond of this weird, poorly-planned canon divergence AU and I want to play with the characters a little more before I abandon them lol). Let me know if that is something you’d be interested in!

“Zelda, love, could you please let me… I can’t seem to…”, Hilda said, gently pushing her sister aside, trying to reach a bottle of olive oil hidden inside a high cupboard.

The redhead puffed, annoyed. “It’s not my fault that this kitchen is impossibly small.” She commented, spreading thick butter and jam on several scones. Swiftly, she bit into one of them, savoring it as if it were the best thing she’d ever eaten. Considering Hilda’s prodigious cooking abilities, it might as well have been. “I want these to be ready before Sabrina arrives. Who knows what outrageous foods she’s being fed at the Academy!”

“She’s probably eating better than you are. Healthier, undoubtedly.” Lilith said, entering the room. Seeing Hilda standing on her tiptoes, she moved the carafe from the cabinet to the counter with a flick of her wrist and the witch gave her a thankful look. “No offence, Hilda. I know our options are limited.”

“None taken.” Hilda said, grabbing a measuring cup. “We left in a hurry and couldn’t bring much with us. Ambrose should be here next week with more supplies, but I have no idea what he’s getting us. It’s a miracle I managed to bake those little scones for today’s meeting, really.”

“Do you know what else would count as a miracle?”, Lilith whispered, brushing her hand against Zelda’s as she sat at the table next to her. “You not finishing them all before Sabrina gets here.”

“Cry me a river.” Zelda said, shoving an entire pastry into her mouth. Lilith almost laughed at the sight. “They’re good for the babe. I know, being a midwife and all.”

“Satan, Zelda, you should at least try to sound convincing when you lie like that!”, Lilith exclaimed, amused, and there was no malevolence in her tone: the previous week had been so chaotic and uncertain that seeing the witch snack on unhealthy bread with gusto filled her with relief.

After their recent discoveries – if one could call finding out that the most powerful evil creature of all time was inhabiting a murderous High Priest’s body a ‘discovery’ and not a life-altering, startling breakthrough – and reflections, Lilith and the rest of the Spellman family had unanimously decided that their mansion was no longer safe for either the demoness or Zelda: despite their attempts at shielding it from dark magic, Blackwood was still aware of its location and could have shown up at any moment. The Academy was deemed safe for Sabrina, as Lucifer had already acquired what he needed from her, and Ambrose, who was in no real danger, had chosen to stay behind, in order to guard the house. Hilda, of course, had to go into hiding with Zelda: what if something had happened to her sister or the child? What if Zelda had gone into premature labor? The first woman wouldn’t have had the faintest clue on what to do. It was final: if they were going to leave, Hilda needed to accompany them.

But where were they going to go, exactly? The Academy, though safe for the students, was the first place Blackwood would have thought of; Sabrina’s witching and mortal friends had families and lives of their own and it would have been unfair to expose them to peril by asking them to move in with them; the Spellmans’ distant relatives were scattered all over the world and the sisters hadn’t heard from them in centuries – mainly because Zelda had dramatically cut ties with most of them over petty disputes and forgettable offenses. Standing in the large living room, the family, along with Lilith and some trusted acquaintances, had dwelt on the matter for hours, until a light had gone on in Ambrose’s head: did Edward not own a tiny cottage – a shack, in all honesty – in the countryside, where they’d all spent some pleasant, hot summer evenings before Sabrina was born? The matter was settled, then: much to Zelda’s displeasure – as the redhead was used to higher standards of living – and Lilith’s quiet satisfaction, the three witches had moved into the dusty house in the middle of the night, maintaining little contact with the outside world, waiting for Lilith to find a solution to their problems and attempting not to lose their minds in the process.

The first couple of days of cohabitation had been a breeze: brought closer together by their collective fears and hopes, Hilda, Lilith and Zelda had lived in a happy, peaceful fantasy world for a while, feeling sheltered and optimistic. Soon enough, however, Zelda had started to complain about the lack of space – she’d been forced to share a minuscule bedroom with Lilith and an old bathroom with the other two women, which, to a person who’d grown up in a vast manor with servants and multiple private rooms, felt like a merciless kind of torture – and Hilda had pointed out that her sister should have been thankful, as she, unlike herself, was at least trapped with a close companion – the demoness had smiled at the description – and wasn’t miles and miles away from her lover. Zelda had then rolled her eyes and the atmosphere had been tense ever since, even if Hilda, knowing her sister’s touchiness very well, was clearly trying her best not to start any fights with her – an incredibly hard task, as the redhead, pregnant and constantly irritated, was oozing frustration from every pore.

“Bloody Heaven, I lost track of time!”, Hilda commented, briefly glancing at the wall-mounted clock. “Sabrina will be here any minute! I need to clean up the dovecot before she arrives. We might have to send out messages and I don’t want our carrier pigeons to be all dirty and frightened.”

“Oh, who even cares about those disgusting birds?”, Zelda muttered under her breath, grimacing: not wanting to be tracked while communicating magically with the rest of the coven, the three of them had started to use homing pigeons, whose smell alone was enough to make Zelda nauseous and ridiculously cross. Not that she ever went anywhere near them, clearly: Hilda usually took care of them and Lilith occasionally helped, too, as it was becoming increasingly hard for the two sisters to perform even the simplest incantations and getting rid of bird waste without magic was, indeed, a revolting chore.

Their magical abilities had been progressively weakening since the day Blackwood had stolen Sabrina’s blood and all witches and warlocks were adjusting to a temporary life without fast enchantments and quick hexes: Lilith was the only one still able to use her powers, but did so as little as possible, out of fear of being tracked by Lucifer. As expected, Zelda was violently loathing her magic-free existence and constantly begged Lilith to cast insignificant spells to make her days more bearable, but the first woman usually refused to: she would have done many things to please the other witch, but risking to be caught by Satan because Zelda was too tired to hang the laundry and wanted her to magically dry her damp clothes instead was not on that list. Needless to say, she typically performed those tedious household tasks anyway, no supernatural tricks involved, as Zelda lazily sunbathed on a garden lounge chair. If Lilith had looked more closely, perhaps she would have noticed the witch’s green eyes lovingly watching her under her sunglasses, as Zelda tried – and failed – to conceal a warm smile.

“Let me handle it.” Lilith offered, headed outside.

“No, I’ll do it.” Hilda insisted. “I need a breath of fresh air.” She added, almost whispering, nodding in Zelda’s direction. Lilith perfectly understood the blonde’s need for a few quiet moments alone and held the door open for her as she went out of the house from the exit that connected the kitchen to the unkept backyard.

“How are you feeling?”, Lilith then asked, taking advantage of Hilda’s absence and tenderly massaging Zelda’s shoulders. “I see that you have regained your appetite.”

“A great improvement, yes.” Zelda replied, licking a smear of jam off her middle finger. The gesture made Lilith shiver, but that was neither the time nor the place for that sort of thoughts. “Considering that my stomach has been boiling with nerves for days and I’ve been chewing on homemade antacids since the beginning of time, I’m rather enjoying this change.”

“I’m glad.” Lilith said, sincerely: the redhead had been a nervous wreck up until hours before, but finally appeared to be calmer, more stable. “You look beautiful, also.”

“Please.” Zelda snorted, placing the last overfilled scone on a rusty tray. “I look horrendous.”

“I think you’re quite splendid, but what do I know, after all?”, Lilith said, kissing the woman’s pale cheek. “I’m merely a demon who has spent thousands of years on this miserable planet and has met every good-looking person who has ever existed. Slept with some of them, too. It’s not as if I were the only creature who could tell you, without a shadow of a doubt, that you’re the most gorgeous woman whose presence has ever graced this world.”

“Believe it or not, your corniness has managed to make my nausea resurface. Thank you for that.” Zelda commented, but Lilith could see that she had an embarrassed grin plastered across her face, which had acquired a faint shade of red.

Chewing the inside of her cheeks to stop a smirk from appearing on her own lips, Lilith tucked a loose strand of hair behind Zelda’s ear, staring into her eyes: the dark circles around them were fading away and her complexion was as immaculate as ever. “I meant it.” Lilith said. “I mean everything I tell you.”

Zelda grunted again, suppressing a smile, and got up from her chair. She grabbed the plate of pastries and moved it towards Lilith. “Instead of wasting my time declaring your undying devotion to me, why don’t you take this and help me—”

Before she’d even had the chance to finish that sentence, a speedy, unidentified object had flown into the kitchen, crashing into pots and pans, causing Zelda to gasp and let go of the tray she was holding. One by one, Lilith watched the scones as they dramatically fell on the ground, jam and butter soiling the grimy floor. Redirecting her attention to the cause of that commotion, the first woman realized that a pigeon had entered the kitchen, likely having escaped from its cage as Hilda had opened its gates to clean it. Luckily, the unruly bird found its way out of the room as Lilith was wondering if she should have resorted to magic to get it out, but the damage had already been done: Zelda Spellman had nothing to offer to her visiting niece, whom she hadn’t seen in more than week, and was quietly weeping in a corner, examining the fallen pastries as if she’d witnessed the execution of her entire family.

“It doesn’t matter, Zelda.” Lilith consoled her, approaching the redhead.

“Of course it does!”, Zelda whined, blowing her nose into a sheet of kitchen paper. “Hilda put so much love into making them and I ruined everything in a matter of seconds. Well, that hideous pigeon did! I knew that keeping those soulless chickens was a terrible mistake. She’s going to be furious with me, and rightfully so.”

“She’s not.” Lilith said. “She never gets angry with you. If I didn’t despise the False God, I would almost call her a saint.” She added, cupping the witch’s face and kissing her forehead, lightly. She stood by her side until the sobbing had ceased and then proceeded to tidy up that whole mess, cursing herself for her promise not to use even the most trivial cleaning spells – it was better to save any kind of magical activity for when they truly needed it. Groaning, she wet a sponge under the sink and crouched down, ready to start scrubbing.

“Thank you.” Zelda muttered, having recomposed herself: she was leaning on the wall, staring at Lilith, looking like a child who’d just had to confess a mischief to her mother. “I’m not sure why I reacted like that. It’s only food, isn’t it? It’s no big deal.”

“It really isn’t. It’s fine.” Lilith reassured her, knowing perfectly well that, those days, even the silliest things sent Zelda over the edge: a chipped teacup, a squeaky step on the old staircase or a skirt with a dark stain that just wouldn’t come out after having been repeatedly treated and washed had the ability to instantly drive her to tears. Lilith, not always capable of repressing her diabolic nature, frequently found Zelda’s unexpected displays of strong, negative emotions rather infuriating, but couldn’t have blamed her: had she been in her shoes, she, too, would have probably started crying at any viable opportunity – for the husband and life she’d dreamed of and lost, for the one she was living, amidst danger and chaos, for her family, for her babe, for Lilith, for everything.

Strange warmness surging within her, the demoness raised up from the floor and wrapped her arms around the redheaded woman, tightly and awkwardly, and yet it felt good, right, as if her body had been created for the sole purpose of resting against Zelda Spellman’s. The other witch squeezed back, soothed by Lilith’s then-familiar shape, allowing herself to close her eyes and settle her head in the hollow of her shoulder. Hearing the doorbell ring, Zelda broke their embrace, but didn’t do so as quickly as she once would have: taking her time, she let her lips rest on the demoness’ and caressed her cheek before leaving the room and greeting her niece at the front door.

“Sabrina! And… Prudence?”, Lilith heard her say. “I didn’t know you would come too, darling. Come inside, please. You both seem exhausted.”

“We had to walk all the way here.” Sabrina explained, letting her aunt lead her to the shadowy sitting room. Lilith followed them, nodding graciously in their direction, as Prudence stared at her with puzzled eyes: few members of the coven knew that the Queen of Hell was staying with the Spellman sisters and the students hadn’t been informed, fearing another demonic possession and a subsequent leak of information. “We couldn’t risk teleporting ourselves here. Not that we would have been able to, anyway.” Sabrina added, her expression gloomy.

“All of this is temporary.” Zelda consoled her, but didn’t sound too convinced.

“Hello, loves!”, Hilda said, barging into the room with a large bundle of dandelion greens in her hands. “Zelda, why is the kitchen floor so sticky? And where are the scones?”

“I’ll explain later.” Lilith whispered in her direction, shaking her head.

“Auntie, why are you carrying all those… vegetables?”, Sabrina asked, confused.

“Oh, they’re for—”

“She’s feeding her repugnant birds.” Zelda cut her off, blowing a puff of air out of her mouth in disgust. “Shall we begin this meeting, then? Sabrina, you told us you had some news for us in your last letter. What is it?”

“This is actually your dinner, Zelda. I’m going to sauté them and you will pretend it’s the best meal you’ve ever had, and we shall all go to bed happy and merry.” The blonde specified, shooting Zelda an accusatory glance: Hilda Spellman was going to feed her sister healthy, insipid food and she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “But yes, I agree. We need you girls to be back at the Academy before it gets dark, so there’s no time to lose.”

“Right.” Sabrina said, taking a book out of her shoulder bag. “I found the manual you asked me to look for, Lilith.” She added, handing it to the demoness. “I read the part you mentioned and you were right. If we play our cards right, I think we have a chance.”

“A chance to do what? And what do you mean by ‘we’? You’re merely our courier, young lady.” Zelda intervened, as Sabrina looked at Lilith with a conspiratorial smile. Zelda noticed the exchange and raised her brow, studying her lover with a stare that promised nothing good.

“Absolutely.” Lilith said, showcasing her best innocent, wide-eyed look. “Thank you, Sabrina, for doing me this little favor. Your involvement in this whole thing ends now, obviously.” Zelda, probably too worn-out to quarrel, momentarily let her off the hook and didn’t argue further. Lilith opened the volume and jumped to a page indicated by a bookmark Sabrina had kindly placed for her, scanning it rapidly. “Just as I thought.”

“What’s going on?”, Hilda inquired, dumping the dandelions into an antiquated basin and starting to select the best ones for their meal.

“A few days ago, I narrowed down the list of possible dates during which Blackwood could perform the rest of the ritual to two options. I was lost, then, because both alternatives seemed plausible, but this tome confirms my suspicions.” She explained, pointing at a short paragraph from the open book. “The ceremony must be carried out about two months from now. On Zelda’s due date.”

“That can’t possibly be true. On the exact same day?”, Prudence asked.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Zelda commented, covering her mouth with her hand.

“This is no joke, unfortunately. The rite has to take place on a certain phase of the lunar cycle, but there are other variables to take into account. According to my calculations, the ideal time for the ritual would also be the day Zelda is supposed to give birth.” Lilith said, lightheaded: she’d done and redone the math several times and there was no way she could have possibly been wrong. Her heart was beating at an unsteady pace. “This also means that the next available date would be months after that – _too_ late, in my opinion, as Lucifer is too weak to survive inside Blackwood’s body for much longer. He’s already wasted a lot of energy and I doubt Sabrina’s blood truly helped him. He needs more than that and he won’t survive if he can’t obtain it soon.”

Sabrina cleared her throat. “What if the baby arrives late?”

“Excellent question.” Lilith took in a deep breath. “If the babe is born after the supposed due date, we will all be safe. The spell won’t be cast and I will be able to personally take care of Satan and his pathetic minion, as neither one of them will be powerful enough to match my strength. It’s good that those two megalomaniacs were too greedy to think things through, time limits and all. If nature is on our side, I think we could finally win.”

“What if the child is early, then?”, Prudence whispered, her voice betraying her dread.

“That’s… That’s also a possibility.” Lilith said, biting her lower lip. “In that case, we would have to stop them before they can come anywhere near Zelda and the infant. That is the least appealing scenario, but we have to consider all risks. If that were to happen, I would—”

“Nonsense.” Zelda cut in, clutching her abdomen. “Sabrina was born several days after Diana’s alleged due date and so was Ambrose. Hilda came into the world rather late, too, if I remember correctly. This child will do the same, in all likeliness. Besides, there are potions I could take to slow things down, if I went into labor earlier than—”

“You are _not_ drinking or eating anything that could potentially harm my future niece or nephew, Zelda.” Hilda interrupted her, menacingly pointing at her with the clump of dark weeds in her hand. “You’re wholly aware that such brews could be fatal, especially for a witch of your age.” Zelda grimaced at the remark, but lowered her gaze, embarrassed by the scolding. “This innocent child will arrive on its own terms and if it’s born a bit too soon, so be it. We will deal with the consequences, as we always do.”

“But—”, Zelda tried to protest, weakly.

“Over my dead body.” Hilda hissed, looking, for the very first time since Lilith had made her acquaintance, quite infuriated.

“I agree with Ms. Spellman.” Lilith intervened. “We shouldn’t put anyone at risk. We will fight openly, if needed. _I_ will.”

“What shall we do in the meantime?”, Sabrina spoke, standing close to her older aunt, whose face was then pale as snow. “We can’t just sit around and wait!”

“That’s exactly what _you_ will be doing, Sabrina. And you too, Prudence. This is something we have to handle on our own and we will ask for the coven’s help only if absolutely necessary.” Lilith said, turning towards the two girls. The Spellman sisters nodded in agreement. “We will keep you updated, naturally. I have some ideas, but we still have some time, thankfully.”

“Alright, I guess.” Sabrina mumbled, eyes fixed on the floor. “Before we go, though, I’m kind of hungry. Do you have anything we could snack on?”

Zelda gasped, remembering the unfortunate scone accident. Lucky for her, Hilda took charge of the situation. “Sure, love. You girls come with me and I will fix you something yummy to eat.” She said, disappearing into the kitchen with the two famished young witches and the pot that contained their vegetarian dinner.

Lilith exhaled, appreciating the short-lived moment of silence that followed their exit. Approaching Zelda, who had sat down on a squeaky chair, she began to caress the witch’s head, mindlessly playing with her ginger hair. She should have thought about the implications of her latest revelation, planned out strategies, designed a plan or two; but she felt drained, and Zelda looked striking in the dimly-lit room, and she told herself that, just for once, they deserved to pretend that things were going to turn out okay, in the end. “Everything will be fine.” She said, not fully believing it, but knowing it was what the other woman needed to hear. Lilith had spent enough time on the sunny side of Earth to know that lying wasn’t always a bad thing, as long as one did it out of care.

“Yes.” Zelda replied. “I know.” She added, and Lilith was entirely aware that she, too, was lying, but knelt beside her and kissed her anyway, because she had also learned that dishonesty was, at times, better than truthfulness, and that Zelda Spellman’s lips were too sweet not to get lost in them whenever they were pushed softly against hers. Instead of worrying and fretting, she allowed herself to disappear inside her arms, wishing they could have quietly vanished together and never be found.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rumors about Part 4 being the last one turned out to be true and I can’t express how sad that makes me. I learned about the cancellation halfway through writing this chapter and, as this fic is also ending soon, it was definitely a bittersweet moment. However, I know that the wonderful community on this site (and Twitter, Tumblr and so on) will still talk about our favorite witches for a very long time and that makes things a little bit better. I hope you will enjoy this new chapter and I will come back with the last part of this story sometime next week. As always, thank you for your support and all your lovely comments!

Lilith woke up in the small bed she shared with Zelda, crushed, as per usual, against the thin wall, generously letting the overheated and heavily pregnant woman occupy the rest of the mattress. Tossing around, taking in the earthy smell of moss and damp stone, she kicked the bed sheets off her body and turned in Zelda’s direction, keeping her eyes tightly shut: a bright morning light was shining through the gated window right behind them and its intensity was too much for Lilith’s somnolent pupils. Yawning lightly, she reached for her lover across the bed, but noticed that the witch was already wide awake and sitting up, her whole figure tense. Finally looking at her, Lilith saw an upset expression cross Zelda’s features at once and her heart made a painful lurch in her chest.

“What’s wrong, Zelda?”, she asked, her voice drowsy with sleep.

“Nothing.” Zelda answered through gritted teeth, clutching the hem of her nightgown so intensely that Lilith was sure she was going to rip it. “Silly Braxton-Hicks contractions, that’s all.”

“Silly _what_?”, Lilith exclaimed, abruptly feeling more awake than ever. “Are you… Zelda, are you having contractions? Right now? I should wake Hilda.” She said, gesturing to get up.

“No need for that.” Zelda blocked her, grabbing her arm. “They’re practice cramps. I’ve been having them since last night and I feel perfectly fine. They could go on for days. Weeks, if I’m unlucky.”

“You don’t exactly look like you’re having the time of your life.”

“Don’t call Hilda.” Zelda repeated, strengthening the grip on Lilith’s forearm. “It’s too early.”

It took a couple of seconds for Lilith’s sluggish brain to register what was happening: the babe wasn’t due until the end of that month and Zelda experiencing labor pains at that stage meant that she might have had to give birth a fortnight earlier than they had anticipated. In a regular scenario, where the former Dark Lord and his pathetic sidekick weren’t after the child and no threats of death hung over their heads, a slightly premature delivery would have been perfectly acceptable; however, considering the fact that they’d based their entire fighting strategy on the infant’s late arrival, their circumstances were, in that instant, less than ideal. Nevertheless, Lilith couldn’t simply go downstairs and enjoy a cup of sour coffee as Zelda lied in pain on their shared mattress and needed to get the witch to accept Hilda’s help.

“If you’re sure that you’re only experiencing bogus contractions, I don’t see why you shouldn’t let Hilda examine you to verify that everything is going smoothly.” She said, knowing that Zelda wasn’t going to pass up on an opportunity to show that she’d actually been right all along. “Besides, it’s almost ten in the morning and she’s probably up and running. Let’s go.” She offered Zelda her arm, which she unenthusiastically accepted, and started to walk down the stairs with her, stopping each time a pang of discomfort shot through the other woman’s body.

Reaching the kitchen, she sighed in relief when she spotted Hilda in front of the stove, busying herself with frizzling pans and pots of dark tea. A delicious smell of eggs and bacon was filling the air, but Zelda’s grimace told Lilith that she wasn’t particularly hungry that morning. Gently pushing the witch towards her sister, who had smiled and then immediately frowned when she’d sensed the redhead’s uneasiness, she waited until Zelda had explained the situation to Hilda, making sure she didn’t undermine the ache she was experiencing.

“Let’s see if everything’s alright, shall we?”, Hilda said, hiding her anxiety quite well.

“That won’t be necessary.” Zelda said, clenching her jaw, having clearly changed her mind. Lilith rolled her eyes: why did that woman have to be so difficult all the damned time? “I’m a midwife too, in case you both have forgotten. I can tell the difference between labor and silly pains that will go away before the day’s end.”

“Suit yourself.” Hilda said, turning her back on her. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

“Are you sure… I mean, she doesn’t seem to be doing that well.” Lilith commented, whispering to Hilda, careful not to be overheard by the other woman, who had sat down on a dusty rocking chair and was staring into space, her eyes half-closed.

“When the cramps get unbearable, she will come to me. Trust me, there’s no point in arguing with her when she’s in denial.” Hilda whispered back, pouring tea into a mug and handing it to Lilith, who took it merely out of politeness. “Zelda refuses to admit that she can be sick and feel ill until the very last moment, but she usually lets me come to her rescue, in the end. I know you might be worried, but you shouldn’t fret.”

Lilith’s cheeks burned when Hilda acknowledged her concern, but she couldn’t have possibly denied it: by then, she’d fully transformed into a creature who cared about others. In truth, it didn’t feel like such a bad change. Exhaling, she reached Zelda’s side, dragging a chair next to her and sitting down, picking up a nearby herbology manual and skimming through it to appear busy. Every once in a while, she shot the witch a concerned glance, observing her as she took in deep, methodical breaths, her apprehension growing with each obvious tightening of Zelda’s face.

Hilda’s theory was proven to be correct, eventually: after several hours of uninterrupted contractions, with the blonde witch going about her daily business as usual and Lilith attempting not to appear too alarmed, Zelda put her pride aside and asked for her sister’s help. “You should check—”, she tried to speak, but was interrupted by another wave of pain. “Just do it.” She said, once the ache had subsided.

“Alright, love.” Hilda said, disappearing into the bedroom with her.

Lilith waited outside, her head throbbing, as entering the room while Hilda performed the examination didn’t seem quite right: the first woman was aware of how much Zelda hated being perceived as weak and vulnerable – even if she’d never thought her to be frail, especially not in that instant – and she most certainly didn’t want to make matters worse. Fidgeting with her skirt, she tried her best to prevent her mind from wandering to very dark places: scenarios where something awful happened to the babe, thoughts of Zelda being badly hurt during the delivery. Instead, she fixed her gaze on the wall in front of her, covered in ancient family portraits, until a faint purple light started to shine in the middle of the sitting room.

“What—”, she gasped, but Prudence’s astral-projected shape materialized in front of her before she was able to express her stupor. “Prudence? What is going on? How—”

“It’s Blackwood, Lilith.” The young witch warned her: her eyes were wide with terror, but she looked as if she wasn’t staring at her, unfocused. Lilith had never seen her that frightened. “He was seen in the forest. He’s up to something.”

“Blackwood is near?”, Lilith asked, suppressing a shiver. How did he figure out their location? How could he have known that they’d been hiding in the countryside? “Where, Prudence?”

“Near the ruins of the pagan sanctuary.” Prudence answered, noticeably shaking. “Sister Gertrude was collecting mushrooms and herbs in the woods and recognized him. He was wearing a gray cape and carrying a black cauldron. We think he might be getting ready to perform the ritual.”

“Now?”, Lilith said. “It doesn’t make any sense. It’s too early. And who’s ‘we’? Have you told anyone else about this? Who else knows?”

“The teachers know about it.” Prudence whimpered. “We managed to perform this brief astral-projection, but we don’t know how long it will last. We don’t know what to do, Lilith. Should we send someone to spy on him?”

“No.” Lilith said, her stomach clenching. “It’s too dangerous. You would all be too fragile to confront him, if he were to see you. Remain at the Academy and tell Ambrose to guard the house, if you can. Blackwood might not be aware of our new location and go there first, hoping to find Zelda and the child.”

“Yes.” Prudence muttered. “How shall we keep in contact?”

“We won’t.” The demoness said. “I will search for him on my own and figure out what he’s doing. In the meantime, don’t do anything. Stay inside, place additional protection spells, warn the professors and students not to leave the Academy, no matter what happens. Listen to me, Prudence: do _not_ try to find him. Murder is not above the Dark Lord’s methods and he will not hesitate if somebody stands in his way.”

“Is Zelda safe?”, the girl asked, and Lilith could have sworn she’d seen a tear roll down the side of her hollow cheek.

“She is.” Lilith lied, for there was no point in letting the rest of the coven know that the babe was likely coming in the following hours and that they were all in imminent danger. “The Spellman sisters will be out of harm’s way, I can assure you of that. Please, do as you were told and warn everybody else. I trust you, Prudence.”

The witch’s hands tightened into fists and she seemed to be on the verge of crying. “I will. I’m… I’m…”, she said, but the projection vanished before she was able to complete her sentence and Lilith found herself alone in the living room, realizing that Mary Wardwell’s mortal form had started to shake uncontrollably.

Pulling herself together, she thought of what she was going to say to the other two women, but Zelda and her sister appeared next to her as the fog had barely left her mind. “It’s all going according to plan.” Hilda said, cheerful, not catching the irony in her own words. “The child is healthy and so is Zelda. I’m afraid, however, that these contractions might be the real deal. She’s already dilated and—”

“Enough, Hilda!”, Zelda snapped, holding the sides of her stomach. “There truly is no need for additional details. In any case, Lilith has read so many pregnancy books over the past few months that she should be an expert, by now. Save the biology lesson for another day.” She joked, hoping to find Lilith staring back at her with an equally amused expression, but the mother of demons was too shaken to feign delight.

“What’s wrong?”, she asked, stepping towards her.

Lilith considered her options: would it have been wiser to lie to them and make up an excuse to go look for Blackwood in the forest? She didn’t know what was going to happen out there, but there was a chance she could have made it out alive and been back to Zelda before she’d even noticed her absence. But Zelda was already in labor and the Spellman sisters weren’t foolish enough to believe that Lilith was merely going to take a walk in the woods with an evil warlock on the run, and, on top of all that, the demoness was tired of lying. She needed to tell them about Prudence’s warning: she was going to take some time to prepare herself and then leave the house, facing her fate, preventing that man from laying a finger on Zelda and her child.

Convinced that the color must have drained from her face by then, Lilith spoke. “Prudence just astral-projected herself to talk to me. Blackwood has been seen in the woods.”

“How did Prudence… And where… I mean, where was Blackwood…”, Hilda stuttered, distractedly squeezing her sister’s shoulder. “In the woods? Here?”

“I’m afraid so. I have to go.” Lilith said, but it was as if her legs were stuck in mud up to her knees and she couldn’t move away from Zelda, who was glaring at her in a way she wasn’t able to decipher. She moved in her direction and the witch touched the back of her hand, feebly, no longer minding the fact that her sister was also there.

“You’re leaving.” She said, producing a sound between a rasp and a whisper. “You promised me you weren’t going to.”

“I know, but this is different. Everyone’s safety is at stake, including your own, and I—”

“But you _promised_.” Zelda repeated herself. She looked as if she were about to add something, but a contraction took her breath away and she almost choked, crouching down. Lilith waited for it to be over, unsure if she was even allowed to touch her, to comfort her – doubtful that she even could have. “It’s fine.” Zelda said, after a long wait. “You wouldn’t want to see me as I am now, regardless. Be careful, that’s all.” She concluded, not meeting Lilith’s eye.

“That’s a load of rubbish, Zelda, and you know it.” Lilith said, blood rushing to her head: of course, the demoness wasn’t _enthusiastic_ about childbirth – she would have most likely been disgusted by it, to be fair – and there were few things she truly cared about in that pitiable world, but she would have given a limb to be able to stand by Zelda’s side throughout the whole birthing process, revolting bits and all. “I want to be with you during this.” She told her, wrapping her fingers around her wrist, realizing, much to her own surprise, that she had meant it. “I have to find him and stop him before he can get to you and the babe. I don’t have a choice.”

Zelda fell silent for a short while, but another contraction suddenly began and she gripped Lilith’s hand so tightly that the first woman heard a nasty crack. Recomposing herself as the pain slowly faded, Zelda finally stared into Lilith’s blue eyes and her lover noticed pearls of sweat and quiet tears trickling down her cheeks. Lilith listened to her as she attempted to speak, but the redhead only managed to suppress a sob and bring a hand to her belly, holding it delicately. Lilith covered it with her own palm and Zelda didn’t push her away, emitting a low whimper instead.

“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.” Lilith said, kissing Zelda on the forehead, not caring about the dampness of her skin, about Hilda being in the room with them, about everything that was going to happen after she had left that ancient, moldy cabin and stepped out into the vanishing light.

In that instant, precariously hidden in a lousy shack in the countryside, nothing mattered but Zelda, and the unexpected way that Zelda made her feel, suffer, crave, love. She understood, then, that, no matter the outcome of that game of cat and mouse she’d been playing with Satan for centuries, she would not have, for the first time in her life, regretted the circumstances that had led her to where she was standing, for she wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere but in the arms of Zelda Spellman. If she’d been given the possibility to go back in time – before she’d stolen Mary Wardwell’s body, murdered her familiar, rebelled against her eternal torturer, met the Spellman family and its matriarch – and change things, she wouldn’t have altered anything at all. Lilith learned, at last, what love was: it was a pounding soreness in her guts, certainly, and an unfathomable sadness, at times, but, mostly, it was the will to fight against the most powerful fiend alive in order to defend the woman who not only reminded her that she had, indeed, a soul, but also made it feel so incredibly full.

“I’m very close to birthing a child whom my former husband is trying to steal to let Lucifer take control over his body, so I doubt it could get much more dangerous than this.” Zelda half-joked, breathing deeply, interrupting Lilith’s reflections. “I won’t. But, please, be back soon. Please.” She said, interrupted by one more strong ache.

“I think it’s time, love.” Hilda gently approached the two of them: Zelda’s contractions had been getting progressively stronger and even Lilith knew that she couldn’t have resisted for much longer. “Stop him, if you can. But, even if you don’t…”, the blonde woman paused, lowering the volume of her voice. “We’ll know that you tried. No one ever did this much for us. Thank you.”

Hilda’s gratitude caused a knot to form in Lilith’s throat and she did not respond, simply nodding in appreciation. “Wait for me, will you?”, she said, smiling sadly at Zelda.

Sitting back in the rocking chair, Zelda let out a puff of air, her eyes glittering. “I can wait. I will wait.”

At first, Lilith didn’t understand the déjà-vu sensation that hit her when Zelda pronounced those last two sentences: gradually, however, her brain recalled a distant vision and the memory of the dream she’d had at the Spellman mansion, back when Sabrina had forced her to try the foul-smelling potion she’d created, came flooding back to her. Zelda, glowing, striking, peacefully rocking a newborn in her arms in a yellow bedroom, bathed in light: the setting wasn’t quite the same and the babe hadn’t come yet, but the words had been the ones the witch had uttered in her hallucination and Lilith took it as a sign that she was, at long last, doing the right thing.

Feeling regenerated, she walked in the direction of the front door, figuring that there was no necessity to bring anything with her: everything she would have needed, she was going to find it within herself. She was brought back into the living room by Zelda’s voice, weakly calling to her. “Yes?”, she asked, bending down to study her freckled face, covered with sweat.

“I have to tell you something.” The witch said, raising her chin and forcing herself to look at Lilith.

“I’m listening.” Lilith said, cupping her reddened cheeks and wiping the dampness away with her thumb.

Zelda’s fingers brushed over her hand, squeezing it tenderly. “I…”, she began to say, pausing for a second as she observed her lover, as if to remember every detail of that exchange. “I love you, Lilith. Very much.”

Lilith’s heart turned over, fluttering like a sparrow in her chest, and she feared that everything that had happened up until that day had been nothing but a wishful dream; but Zelda was definitely real – more real than anything she’d ever been allowed to reach, to care for – and her confession had filled a hole that had been growing deep in her spirit for millennia – one she hadn’t even realized had been there. She kissed her, then, nearly missing her lips and bumping her nose against hers. “I love you too, Zelda.” She said, wishing she didn’t have to leave her there, scared and in pain, but knowing she had no other choice: Satan and Blackwood were near and she had to act quickly if she wanted to stop them before it was too late.

Tearing her eyes away from Zelda, she moved through the cottage like a ghost, not daring to turn around before stepping out of the threshold: she’d seen how the False God had punished Lot’s wife for looking back at Sodom, at the life she was leaving behind, and she didn’t want to take any chances. Running through bushes and trees as fast as her legs could carry her, not wanting to teleport herself and give herself away, the demoness reached the decrepit pagan sanctuary shortly before sundown. Silently, careful as not to step on twigs and dry leaves, she moved towards the sanctuary, a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach. All of a sudden, she spotted a tall, dark figure wearing the gray cape Prudence had described and the realization that she was about to confront her nemesis washed over her like an acid bath, but she wasn’t going to surrender. Not anymore.

Approaching him from behind, she muttered a spell and flicked her wrist, expecting to catch him by surprise and hear the sweet sound of his neck bones cracking. Instead, the cloak fell on the ground, revealing nothing under it but the crisp evening air. Lilith felt sick. “A diversion.” She murmured, fear flooding through her as she understood that Lucifer and Blackwood had managed to trick her. How could she have been so stupid?

Breathless, she materialized herself back to the house, no longer worried about getting caught. As she appeared in front of the cabin, a familiar voice called out to her from the shadows. “Looking for me, my dearest concubine?”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally sharing the last chapter of this story! I don’t want to spoil you anything, so more notes at the end. Enjoy!

The voice that had called to her had come from behind her. Lilith turned around as her heart bounded into her throat, facing the creature who had just spoken: in the ominous, fading light, Blackwood’s silhouette looked far less threatening than what she had expected. Staring at him, she saw nothing but the rotten shell of his former self: though it had been a while since the last time the two of them had been mere feet away from each other, Lilith couldn’t help but notice his sunken cheeks, tensed lips and matted hair and beard. To an outsider, he might have seemed perfectly innocuous – pathetic, even – but Lilith knew that she needed to look past his darkly-ringed eyes and emaciated shape: the clear smell of sulfur that had filled her nostrils the second she’d materialized in front of the cottage and the scarlet, intense color of his pupils suggested that Lucifer was already inside him, craving power and vengeance.

“I would ask you if you are surprised to see me, but a little bird told me that you were all impatiently waiting for me.” Blackwood laughed, his tone a petrifying blend of his own voice and Satan’s manner of speech. As he said so, he stepped aside, revealing two additional figures standing behind him, partially concealed by the dark of night.

“Prudence? And… Sabrina?”, Lilith gasped, observing the young witches who had come out of the shadows: Prudence appeared to be as frightened as she had been during her earlier astral-projection, while an expression of pure fury crossed Sabrina’s face. Both of them, Lilith realized, were restrained by magical seals of some sort: their hands were tied at the back and Sabrina was gagged with what looked like a piece of cloth stuffed into her mouth and knotted in the middle, preventing her from speaking. Lilith couldn’t stop herself from thinking that Zelda would have murdered Blackwood with her own two hands, had she seen her niece in that state.

“What is going on?”, Lilith managed to ask, her tongue feeling arid as she fought to control her fright: she had hoped to be alone during that last duel with the Dark Lord and the two girls – children, really, no matter how grown-up and wise they always tried to act – being there wasn’t part of her not-so-perfect plan. “Is that… Lucifer, is that you? Or… is it Blackwood, still?”

“Both. Neither. What difference does it make? We will become one, eventually.” Blackwood replied, his gaze wandering towards the house behind them. “Evidently, I have arrived too early. I even toyed with the idea of making an appearance tomorrow, if I have to be frank with you. That stubborn wife of mine truly is struggling to accept the fact that our child is about to be born, isn’t she? Hard to tell when my heir will come into this world when she’s so deep in denial.” He joked, causing Lilith to feel sick.

Who _was_ the man in front of her? He spoke as if he were Blackwood, but there was no doubt that Satan was somewhere within him, dormant. The former High Priest had performed part of the ritual already – that little she did know: was Lucifer too weak to show himself? Too feeble to prevail, to fight openly against his mistress? He _had_ called her his concubine, after all. If she had attacked him then, would she have been more powerful than him? More prepared? Hell, if only Sabrina and Prudence weren’t being held hostages! How in the name of all incubuses had they ended up with him, anyway?

“Girls, why are you…”, Lilith tried to speak to them, but, despite her brain going a hundred miles an hour, her vocal chords were struggling to produce the sounds she intended to emit.

“How could our beloved daughters not be with us, tonight?”, Blackwood said, placing a hand on each girl’s shoulder, his tone getting progressively more similar to Satan’s. “I have to say, Lilith, it was incredibly imprudent of you to let Prudence visit you here. Just because you couldn’t locate me using blood magic – perks of letting the most potent evil spirit in existence inhabit your body, I would say – it doesn’t mean that I couldn’t do the exact same thing to trace her. It was as easy as stealing candy from a child, really.”

Of course, Lilith should have understood that immediately: she’d been so convinced that Zelda was, at last, safe, hidden in a formerly-abandoned hut in the woods, away from the rest of the world, that she’d forgotten that Blackwood was, indeed, constantly searching for them, using every card up his sleeve, certainly not taking silly strolls in the countryside and having picnics by the river, as she and Zelda had foolishly done. The thing she hated the most about herself in that very instant was that, if she were to tell the truth, she did not even regret it: like a butterfly, or a vulgar fruit fly, she’d enjoyed her brief, tranquil time with Zelda, not thinking too much about the future, yet aware, thanks to the example of the thousands of women who had fallen to the hands of Lucifer before her, that the happiness was bound to be transitory. She was nothing but a small insect, sickening, conscious of its short existence, yet unwilling to acknowledge its eventual demise, quite literally living in the moment. If seen in that light, the life of an insignificant pest didn’t seem so dreadful.

“I’m so sorry.” Prudence said, breaking the silence. “He forced me to do this.”

“How long have you been using them?”, Lilith asked, turning in Blackwood’s direction, unable to mask her loathing.

“Not that long at all.” He commented, serene, as if he were having a pleasant chat with an old friend. “I paid these two valiant girls a little visit this morning, while you were so preoccupied with worrying about your _sweetheart_ and her… I suppose you called them ‘bogus contractions’, yes? Anyhow, I was lucky enough to find them lurking around the Academy’s gardens, skipping school. I didn’t even have to break in, can you believe that?”, he laughed again, brushing his black nails against Prudence’s cheek. “I kept telling my students that cutting class was going to get them into trouble, and look at them now!”

Lilith’s heartbeat became faint when she heard that direct quotation: how long had he been spying on them? In the meantime, Sabrina attempted to say something, but the cloth in her mouth was muffling her words. “Ah, well, you will all be dead soon, so you might as well talk.” Blackwood said, removing the gag.

“I told her not to help him!”, Sabrina yelled straight away, but a quick look from Blackwood suggested that she had to lower the volume of her voice if she wanted to stay alive for a while longer. “That astral-projection was another one of his tricks. He made her to do it, after I refused. As she also should have.”

“I had no choice.” Prudence tried to defend herself, her body trembling. “You know what he said to me, Sabrina. If I didn’t agree to help him, he was going to murder me and my sisters. I couldn’t let him do that.”

“Oh, that’s right, since he’s _totally_ not going to kill us anyway, now that we’ve become part of his scheme. And you’ve put the rest of my family in danger, too! Are you satisfied, Prudence?”, Sabrina shouted, then speaking more quietly after a rough slap on the back of her head from Blackwood. “I was prepared to sacrifice myself for them. I didn’t care if I died.”

“Not everyone in the world is constantly looking for an opportunity for martyrdom, Spellman! And my sisters _are_ my family.” Prudence said. Lilith knew she was supposed to feel some kind of resentment towards the young woman who had put them all in further peril, but she, too, had made a home out of people who did not share the same blood as her: in spite of everything, that girl was not unlike Lilith herself. “I had to trust that he wasn’t going to harm them if I did what he wanted me to do. Besides, you weren’t acting so bravely a couple of hours ago, were you? You were shaking like a leaf. I thought you were going to sh—”

“Enough.” Lilith shushed her. “Now is not the time for bickering and blame.”

“Truer words were never spoken.” Blackwood smiled, showing a row of darkened, sharp teeth: what in the name of _herself_ had Satan done to that man? “What shall we do to occupy ourselves, I wonder? I’ll be honest, Lilith: I thought that my childish deception was going to keep you busy for the rest of the evening, but you reached the sanctuary remarkably quickly. Is that what love does to a person, then? Does your devotion towards my cheating whore of a wife allow you to run through a sinister forest at an impressive pace?”

At first, Lilith did try to suppress all of her anger: nothing good had ever come from raging against Lucifer and her perpetual torturer was certainly hidden inside the creature before her. She’d started to see it, finally: another being might not have noticed it, but she recognized his old artifices and the way he managed to say all those wicked, sordid things that always hit her right where it hurt the most. Even so, though she’d learned how to deal with her tormentor in the many years he’d forced her to spend with him, obedient and suppliant, there was a new sensitive subject on the table – one he had yet to taunt her about. That subject being, of course, Zelda Spellman.

“You aren’t even attempting to deny it. If I were a different man, I would almost find that adorable. ‘Almost’ being the key word, clearly.” Blackwood pretended to pout, frowning. “Oh, Lilith, don’t tell me that you have actually fallen in love with that woman! You, the almighty Queen of Hell, having a chaste crush on a common witch, already married and pregnant with her High Priest’s child? And out of all people, you chose _her_. Can’t you see it, dear?”, Lilith grimaced at the epithet. “She doesn’t _love_ you. She will never love anyone, really. She’s rotten to the core, only ever caring about her own needs and wants.”

Lilith fought back a rising wave of nausea. “Is that what she confessed to you, Faustus? That she simply didn’t know how to love you? If that is the case, I have to say that that was a rather clever way of telling you that she was _desperately_ repulsed by you.” Lilith was aware that what she’d said wasn’t correct: in all likeness, there had been a time when Zelda had believed Faustus to be a decent warlock. Lilith had thought that about Lucifer once, too. Wanting things to be true didn’t make them that way. “Or is that what you tell yourself so that you can sleep better at night, refusing to admit that you are not half the person that Zelda is?”

Blackwood grinned, but Lilith was familiar with the fury that was building up beneath the surface: that same ferocity was, perhaps, the single passion they shared. “I see that you haven’t lost your taste for making scenes in public. Our sweet Sabrina would probably prefer not to hear about her aunt’s sexual escapades, don’t you think?”, he asked, but Lilith was sure that Zelda’s sexuality was the last thing on Sabrina’s mind: the child was staring straight ahead, her fists clenched. “Tell yourself whatever you need to get by, dearest, but remember that Zelda was mine, first. The babe she is carrying is _my_ rightful heir.”

“Typical.” Lilith snorted, unsure where she’d found the nerve to do so. “I know you’re in there, Lucifer, because this is so much like you.” She said, stepping closer to him. “After all this time, you still think that people belong to you. Did you not learn anything from your own downfall? There are some things you just can’t own.”

“I suggest you do not take another step.” Blackwood said, or was it Satan? His tone was changing, turning into a low growl – a bark only a wounded animal would have produced: it was an unforgettable voice, one that once made wrath and unrestrained lust swirl inside Lilith. In that moment, all that was left was hatred.

“Why? You are going to slaughter me in a matter of minutes, so what are you waiting for, exactly? Not in the mood for a massacre before dinner?”, she mocked him, once again moving in his direction. “Are you… afraid of me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Blackwood said, his nostrils flaring slightly. “I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, Lilith. I did want to take the infant and disappear without making a fuss, leaving everyone unharmed, but I don’t have a choice, now, do I? If only Zelda would have the decency to hurry up! Constance’s labor was much quicker, though she did die, eventually. Such a pity.” He commented, turning briefly to look at the house.

Just then, following Blackwood’s gaze, Lilith noticed that the lights were all turned on inside the hut and that Zelda’s figure could be seen in the living room, pacing back and forth with a hand on the small of her back. Hilda was standing beside her, occasionally checking her temperature and offering her a cup of what must have been water, possibly mixed with herbal remedies. Squinting, Lilith made out her lover’s features, contorted into a grimace of pain, and the gravity of the situation finally struck her, sending a shiver of fear down her spine: she was no longer facing Lucifer on her own, intrepid and convinced that, no matter the outcome of their battle, she would have found a way to escape. Everything was different that one time, coated with unsteadiness: had she failed, the two young girls Blackwood had captured were going to perish, and so was the rest of the Spellman family, along with the coven and every single creature who had ever helped the witches and warlocks of the Church of Lilith. If she had fallen, she was not going to suffer on her own: that was, after all, the price one had to pay when one allowed oneself to grow fond of people, Lilith supposed. People whom she had an obligation to protect, regardless of what it was going to cost her.

Focusing again on Zelda’s damp face, Lilith wished she could have been by her side, letting her squeeze her hand, break her every bone, bite the skin of her palm, scream at her, insult her, even, if that could have given her some relief. Instead, she was out there, about to fight against the man – the two men, in fact – who were the very cause of all their troubles: the first woman asked herself what would have happened if Blackwood and Zelda had never gotten married, if Zelda hadn’t found herself unexpectedly pregnant, if she had abandoned Satan many centuries before and had refused to be the subject of his tortures for so long. Wishful thinking, that was all it was: no amount of wondering was going to change the past. At the same time, the anger she was feeling was threatening to consume her whole, to blow her up: she could feel it in the tips of her fingers, hot as hellfire; in the depths of her belly, burning with a desire for retaliation, for justice, for violence. She swallowed, but her mouth was dry.

“Look at yourself.” Blackwood cackled, having understood that Lilith was watching Zelda, apprehension so evident in her cobalt eyes. “Look at what you have become. You were once the greatest, most influential demoness of all time, my right-hand woman! But you’ve turned into a fragile, pitiable being. I didn’t think the day would come that I would say this, but love has made you weak, Lilith.”

“I was never your right-hand woman.” Lilith said, her muscles tensed, every word that beast pronounced fueling the fire that burned within her. “Even after millennia, you can’t bring yourself to admit that I was nothing but a toy to you. An old, loyal dog you got rid of when you grew bored of me.” Blood rushed to her ears, deafening as a waterfall, as fierce sea waves. “And if you ever bothered to care for anyone but yourself, you’d know that love does not make one weak. It makes them full, perhaps. Better, even. But never weak.”

Before she’d even realized it, flicks of blue light were leaving her palms, bursting out of every pore of her body, hurting her exposed skin with their intensity. Blackwood stared at her with a confused expression, but his bewilderment lasted a mere second, for he launched his counter-attack as soon as the first scorching sparks reached him: as Sabrina and Prudence stepped away from the two demons, Blackwood’s body also produced an odd, purple glow, which traveled around his mortal form and came blazing out of his fingertips, engulfing Lilith in a whirlwind of dust and dirt.

The mother of demons hadn’t expected her adversary to be so strong: having almost being swept away by that surge of magic, she sensed a certain deterioration of the Dark Lord’s powers, but it was nowhere as drastic as she had imagined. Her throat tightened: what if Satan – so delicate and flawed that he had needed to possess one of his servants to survive – was, despite his noticeable disadvantage, still _stronger_ than her? Looking back at the house, Lilith saw that Zelda was no longer pacing the narrow sitting room: the lights were on upstairs, where the nightly quarters she shared with the redheaded woman were, but the demoness couldn’t hear anything beyond the loud buzzing in her ears and the thundering of her heart. Rage and panic seized her brain as she thought of Zelda, of her pains and sufferings, of the fact that her life – and Hilda’s, and everyone else’s – was in her hands; Zelda, who, in spite of her harsh nature, had been the first person who had ever treated her with kindness, with gentleness. How _dared_ Lucifer and Blackwood try to take that shy, newfound joy away from her? From them both?

In that instant, it became clear to her that, if she wanted to win that last fight, she had to let her ire burn her up, give it permission to take control over her body: she did not care about the consequences of her reckless actions, then – partly because, deep inside, she maintained a wild, careless spirit; mostly, however, it was because love and devotion had, in the end, turned evil into good, making great sacrifices appear small if made to protect the woman she most cherished. Realizing that anger, once mixed with adoration, could be used as a weapon, Lilith ceased to repress it, choosing to show Lucifer all the pent-up wrath she’d collected over the years: hissing through Mary Wardwell’s body, her fury swept off her like a volcano erupting. Her magic pulsing through her, Lilith unleashed a wall of light and fire, as red and yellow vapors emerged from the soil. As a vivid gleam of energy pierced Blackwood’s chest, Lilith collapsed on the ground, her sight blurry, her soul light. Sticks, leaves and bits of wood flying in all directions as she lied in the fresh mud, the demoness took one last look at her sworn enemy and saw nothing but a dead emptiness in his eyes, which had turned dark as coal. Taking in a shallow breath, she observed the High Priest’s lifeless corpse as it hit the ground and let one feeble, hopeful thought float into her mind: she had won.

Sabrina and Prudence ran to her, helping her rise from the muddy soil, and embraced her as tightly as their arms permitted them to, sobbing softly. Lilith let them, pressing her body against theirs, yearning for the moment she was going to hold Zelda close again, gently, as if they were the only two women in the entire universe and the rest of the world didn’t matter at all. Hugging the two girls, stroking their hair in a way that a stranger would have almost believed to be motherly, she stared at the moon rising in the warm sky and thought of who to thank for her victory, only to realize that the deity she needed to give thanks to was herself. Breathing in the sharp summer air, she glanced at the stars, allowing herself to believe that her life was, at last, going to be good. From inside the house, muffled by the thick cobblestone walls, came the sound of a newborn’s wailing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I began to write this story in December, then decided to share the first chapters in February and it’s now almost August. It all started with Lilith and Zelda having an impromptu dinner at the Academy and it ended with a dead evil warlock and a newborn child. Considering that this is my first work in a language that is not my first one and that I had no clear outline at first, the support I have received over the past few months has been unbelievable. Like, I’m almost tearing up as I write this. It might not be a perfect fic, but I sure did love writing it. I want to thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for all the comments, the kudos and the silent views. As I mentioned before, I might write a collection of one-shots or something similar in the future (I also have ideas for other AUs, in case you were wondering), but, for now, thank you. Truly. It was a pleasure to be able to share this with you.


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